


Wrath and Ruin

by Hammerfell



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, I mean kind of - Fandom, indoril nerevar - Fandom, nerevarine - Fandom, original character - Fandom, plot rewrite kind of, since a reincarnation and all that
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammerfell/pseuds/Hammerfell
Summary: A woman without memory takes her first few floundering steps into a journey that will lead down a path she could never predict.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this started simple but got overly ambitious fast

 

“Wake up!”

A woman awoke aboard a ship, unaware of the godly plot she has become intertwined in.

Waves of phantom pain radiated off of ancient scars, the intensity of which gave her a clear map of where they lie; a crescent moon across her throat, jagged patterns carved into her thighs, each equidistant above her knees, and a violent bolt like scar trailed from her left hip to the ribs on the opposite side of her body.

She had no memory of receiving them, but at the moment she had no memory at all. When she tried to call upon her thoughts, they fled from her like mist from a fire. She scoured her mind for any sense of identity, only to be answered with one word: Lyrith.  
  
_A name?_ She wondered, finally being able to think above the jumbled chaos that had woven itself into her brain.  
  
_O_ _ne of many,_ a voice in her mind replied.  
  
“Are you okay? You were dreaming.” Her eyes swiveled to a man standing above her. He was shirtless, wearing nothing besides ragged brown pants. Though the intensity of his remaining red eye startled Lyrith at first, he seemed genuinely concerned.

Lyrith brought a callused grey hand to her throat, gently rubbing the thick scar that she now wore around her neck, nervous that it might break open under too much friction. “I… I don’t know.”

The man offered her a hand which she gratefully took. “Stand up, there you go.” She dusted off her filthy shirt white once on her feet and was perplexed by the body underneath her. “I’m Jiub,” her companion offered, “What’s your name?”

“Lyrith,” she replied, though it was more of a question than answer.

“Well Lyrith, not even last night’s storm could wake you. I heard them say we’ve reached Morrowind, I’m sure they’ll let us go.” _How long was I asleep?_ She wondered, pressing a palm to her forehead in hopes that it might calm the typhoon of her mind. No memory came to her; not the supposed dream that Jiub had mentioned, no memory of boarding the ship or what she had done before that. She was just… there with no context for her own existence.

“What’s a Morrowind?”  
  
“Quiet, here come the guards.” Lyrith fell silent but deep in her mind she heard an answer: _Home_. The bassy reverb of the voice was distinct from the one she used to speak within herself, making the hair on her neck stand up.

_Who are you?_ She asked, not sure if she would get an answer. Whatever had happened to her to cause her to lose her memory could have left her mentally strained and she could just be hearing things — she knew, but it felt like something more. There was a long silence, as if the voice was making a point of not answering.  
  
_...A friend._  
  
A man approached the doorway of the room and beckoned to her with a nod; Lyrith followed him into narrow hold of the ship without hesitation. He wore a red leather jerkin that was riddled with rivets and had plated metal pauldrons on his shoulders. An Imperial soldier, Lyrith recognized, the information being churned out from the chaotic depths of her mind. There were several human races on Nirn she recalled suddenly, a fragment of memory coming back to her though her recollection was still vague.

The soldier took a place near the ladder that lead to the deck, his eyebrows furrowed. “Get yourself up on deck and let’s keep this as civil as possible.” His hostile tone was enough to ensure that Lyrith didn’t hesitate in climbing the ladder, taking rung after rung until he pulled herself up onto the fibrous planks of the main deck.

Though the tension in the air was palpable, it was washed away when Lyrith was overcome with an intense feeling of nostalgia. As she looked out over the bay to her right, she felt a resonance in the depths of her soul that brought tears to her eyes. The ugly, muddy landscape filled her with a sense of sadness and familiarity  that fueled her confusion as to why he was having this reaction. _Resdayn,_ a forlorn voice in her mind commented.

The sudden influx of emotions ended and Lyrith made her way off the ship and onto land. Deep down she couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity as her boot sunk into marsh that seemed to make up the ground all around her. _If this is Resdayn, why are there humans here?_ The voice demanded. 

_I wish I had any idea what you’re talking about,_ Lyrith responded, uncomfortable at the thought that a voice besides her own had wedged itself in her head but too confused to do anything about it, if there was anything she could do at all.

A wide building that looked like patchwork of wood, stone, and stucco sank into the marsh before her, the guards that lined both sides of the path before her pointing her towards it. Lyrith felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when she grasped the handle of the door, her back turned to the armed soldiers behind her. She thought it slightly irrational to fear them considering that they had had plenty of opportunities to kill her before, had they wished to do so, but for some reason she couldn’t shake the paranoia.

The room that greeted her once she stepped inside was more claustrophobic than she expected granted the size of the building. Tattered rugs were placed on the ground to hide the decrepit wooden floor underneath and flags adorned with what looked like a stylized dragon had been draped across the stone walls. _The symbol of the Empire_ , she recalled, brief fragments of memory returning once more. 

_Not any Empire I know,_ the voice countered. 

Lyrith’s eyes were drawn towards a soldier to her left who stood with his back to wall, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he watched her warily, the fireplace to her right causing  beads of sweat to roll down his forehead. She could see the tension in the way he looked at her, as if her was anticipating her to do something, the intensity of his stare like a dare. 

“Ah yes, we’ve been expecting you,” rang a kindly voice from the center of the room. It belonged to a balding older man with goatee of pure white hair. Lyrith questioned why he chose to wear such a thick robe considering the growing intensity of heat in the room. “You’ll have to be recorded before you’re officially released,” he said, taking a clipboard off of the desk next to him, the surface of which was a chaotic amalgam of paperwork. “We’ll need you to answer a few questions about yourself.” 

“Alright,” Lyrith responded automatically, though once the words left her mouth she was filled with doubt that she could actually answer any of the questions.

“So you’re clearly a Dark Elf,” he said, the scratching sound of pen against paper soon following. 

_“Dark Elf?” What is a “DARK Elf??”_ The voice in her had grown to a shout that made Lyrith wince as it began to grow louder. She held out her arms and studied them as if her body had just appeared. Her skin was a rich ashen grey, which made her feel like she had been birthed from one of the massive ash drifts that formed from the plumes emitted by Red Mountain. She didn’t know how she knew that, but it felt right. Like the man on the ship, Lyrith recalled Jiub having shared the same complexion. 

_What has happened in my absence?_ The voice grumbled in disgust before falling silent. She didn’t know what the voice was talking about, but she wished that it would be a bit more quiet. Having her thoughts interwoven with those of someone else was causing her mind to overload, all the sensory input around her was becoming too much. 

“Ma’am?” The older gentleman inquired, leaning towards her to try and get her attention. 

“Uh, yes? Sorry.”  
  
“I asked you what you did before becoming imprisoned.” 

Drawing on what little memory she had regained so far, she searched for answer but found only emptiness. She forced her eyes shut and delved deeper, feeling that if she just tried hard enough something should come to her. There were flashes; a battleground of ash and blood, the sound of battle consuming all, then the clang of metal against metal over and over again, bloodied, callused hands gripping a weapon that smashed into chains, shattering them. The weariness, the pain, the hope, the fear, it all came back to her as she lived in those memories a few seconds at a time. But then they faded, and the details of what she had experienced made themselves sparse. 

“I was a warrior.” The words sprang from her lips unprompted, confusing Lyrith until she realized that the voice had spoken for her. _...How did you do that?_ She asked, the panic that flooded her mind making her heart skip a beat. 

_I am unsure._ The voice replied, _An answer was demanded, so I complied._  

Anger began to well within her _, You can’t just take control like that._ Lyrith didn’t even know what the voice was, which made her even more afraid of what it might be capable of.

_My apologies. I did not intend to unnerve you._  

_Then make sure you don’t do it again._  

_As you wish._   

She heard the robed man click his tongue then mumble under his breath. “I suppose I’ll just put down ‘Mercenary.’” 

“Sorry I’m-” 

“It’s no matter,” the scribe interrupted, tearing the piece of paper he had been writing off the clipboard. He folded it in half and squeezed the ridge so the halves met then handed it to her. “Give this to my associate in the next room over and we’ll see you on your way,” he gestured to a door towards Lyrith’s right.

Without another word, Lyrith rushed towards the door, eager to leave the many armed soldiers behind her. She quickly made her way through several rooms and a small courtyard until she reached the last room in the compound. Once there she paused to catch her breath, realizing that she had been more or less sprinting her way to freedom.

“Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday,” a voice boomed, making Lyrith jump. She whipped her head towards the soldier who stood to her left, his hand held out towards her expectantly. “I am Sellus Gravius, I’m here to welcome you to Morrowind.”

Thoughtlessly, Lyrith shook his hand which created an awkward tension between them. “Your identification papers,” Sellus added after clearing his throat.

“Right,” She handed him the slip of paper that she had crushed in her fist during her dash to escape. As her nerves became more and more frayed, Lyrith began flex her hand repeatedly, hoping that it would release some of the anxious energy that had built up inside of her. “Do you know why I’m here?” She finally asked.

“I don’t know why you were released from prison and shipped here, but your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself and that’s all I need to know.” He retreated to the back of the room and retrieved a messenger bag that had a square bulge protruding from its side. “When you leave this office, you’re a free woman. But before you go, I have instructions on your duties that come from the Emperor himself. So pay careful attention.”

Lyrith nodded as he bombarded her with a plethora of information, absorbing none of it. She knew that she would probably live to regret not retaining all the intricate details but she felt like her brain had reached maximum capacity for what she could process at once. The general idea stuck: head to Balmora and deliver a package to Caius Cosades. Their one sided conversation ended with Sellus handing Lyrith the messenger bag and sending her on her way, telling her to consult the directions in the journal if she were to get lost.

With that, she stepped through the final door and into freedom. Being greeted by rundown buildings that looked to have partially sunken into the dreary landscape was not what Lyrith would call a promising first impression. Though she supposed it didn’t matter since she wasn’t there for long.

Before she could take another step her attention was immediately drawn to a giant monstrosity to her right. It was an insect that looked like it had been hewn out of stone and had eight tendrils extending from its undercarriage with  the front two twitching in such a way that made Lyrith’s skin crawl. After staring in horror, she quickly made her way towards the edge of town.

A handful of people milled about the streets, all of them looking at Lyrith as if she were a feral animal that had wandered into town, which only drove her to walk faster. She didn’t look back as she walked into the marshlands that lie just outside of town—although she had to stop immediately, retching at the putrid smell fill that filled her nostrils. 

The smell of decay filled the air, new waves of the horrid odor radiating off the landscape at a constant rate. _It's a corpse,_ Lyrith realized as she studied the dead land and wondered how the civilization could exist in a place like this. Smelling like decayed flesh that had been marinated in the brine of the sea; it was a colorless, lifeless terrain that made her dread the journey she was about to make. 

She was in an alien and openly hostile land with no memory of who she was, and a voice that wasn't her own had been jammed into her head, only adding further chaos and confusion to what was going on. _And no weapon._ That part especially bothered her though she wasn't sure why it did. 

With a hand placed over her mouth and nose to help keep out the pungent odor, she headed out into the wasteland. 

Since she was on edge, she jumped at every movement that she caught in her eyesight, each time reaching to her back to brandish a weapon that didn't exist. Muscle memory, she knew, but she sincerely wished her muscles would tell her what she was else forgetting. She knew that a weapon of any kind would've helped ease the paranoia that plagued her, Lyrith feeling like something was going to lunge from the depths of one of the salt marshes every time she walked past one. 

The sun had just risen when Lyrith had departed the ship, but by now it had begun to sink towards the horizon as she continued on her arduous journey, determined to keep going even though fear and uncertainty stained her mind. The voice, much to Lyrith's satisfaction, had receded for the time being, leaving her to sort through everything that was happening in peace. I should've asked more questions, Lyrith thought as she wandered through the nightmarish hellscape.  She had been in such a hurry to escape that she hadn't taken the time to really investigate. _Good thinking,_ she continued, berating herself, just head off into the unknown without asking a single question, _what could go wrong? It's not like there could possibly be anything dangerous or worth asking about in this... hell swamp._  

Despite her fears about all that could go wrong, her trip continued without any event, Lyrith finally being able to pry her hand off of her face after she walked through a mountain pass where the dank odor of the swamp was briefly washed away.  She took a breath and turned to the east. The sun now balanced on the horizon behind her, the power of the its last light filtered through the ash in the air bathed the land in a blood red, a color that turned to a rich purple as the Sun's disc slowly receded below the horizon. Lyrith could see the light of a city in the distance, the subtle glow becoming more and more visible as dusk began to envelope the land. 

The beauty of the sight inspired her. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all,_ she thought as she looked upon the path that lay before her. 

Her brief moment of optimism was shattered when a creature swooped down from the sky and slammed into her; the terrible screech it had emitted left her ears ringing while she flew backwards towards the swamp she had just gratefully left behind. There was a loud smack as she crashed into one of the salt marshes that she had passed, her body plunging into it. It was a lot deeper than she had thought it would be, which Lyrith was glad for. Had it been shallow as it seemed initially she probably would've died on impact. 

Lyrith had made the mistake of having her mouth open as she was falling and as a result her mouth was filled with the putrid water that tasted as bad as the smell that wafted off of it. The shock of the taste forced the air from her lungs, putting Lyrith in an even more precarious position. Salt from the water—if you could call the viscous murk that—seeped into a gash that the beast had left across her ribs, her body now screaming at her in agony. 

Her hands flailed behind her back as she fell through the syrupy muck, desperately looking for any kind of grip that could stop her hasty descent. Finally her hand brushed up against something that stuck out of the marshes wall and she wrapped her fingers around it as fast as she could. 

Deep beneath the surface of the marsh, no light penetrated it which left Lyrith in complete darkness. Her lungs beginning to ache from the lack of air, she didn't waste any time making her way to the surface. She thought to yank whatever she had clung to out of the wall and use to help her climb back up, but it didn't come out as easily as she thought it would. Placing both of her feet on the side of the wall, she pulled more of the object’s length even though its resistance grew with the growing strength she exerted. It was about four feet in length, brushing the opposite side of the marsh when Lyrith extended her arm. _A blade,_ she recognized. _This should do,_ Lyrith drove it into the wall above her and fought against the water which seemed to yank her down. 

She pulled herself upward, furiously kicking her legs with what energy she had left and dragging the blade out with the momentum she generated. Again and again she repeated this process, propelling herself upwards even as her consciousness strained from her lack of breath. After what seemed like an eternity, Lyrith broke through the surface and landed on the damp ground, the blade she had retrieved slipping from her hand and landing a few feet away. "I shouldn't have survived that," she said to herself once she had regained control of her breathing, still lying on her back. 

With no air in her lungs and having done the amount of rigorous movement that she'd done to escape, she should've drowned. _I guess today's my lucky day._  

_Luck will not save you from an infection,_ The voice commented, stating its return. _You must burn it out or else it will fester._  

Lyrith was annoyed that the voice had returned, but she shoved that aside since it had called her attention back to wound in her side which now burned. _What?_

_The bacteria that Resdayn houses has always been especially vicious, I am trying to help you, child._  

Grunting as she twisted her torso, she flipped herself over so that she was on her hands and knees. _Okay sure, but how am I supposed to burn it out? Nothing around here looks dry enough to start a fire with._ She replied once she had briefly studied her damp surroundings. 

_Do you not recall how to summon your Magicka?_  

_I can't say since I'm not sure what that word even means._  

_Like so,_ the voice replied, Lyrith being able to hear the annoyance that tinged its tone. 

A vision flashed in the eye of her mind; a flame bursting to life in her palm and suddenly she could feel the ability at her fingertips. _H_ _ow did you show me that?_ Lyrith inquired, slightly troubled by the what had just transpired, though she was grateful for it. 

_I am...unsure. You needed my knowledge so I simply shared._ There was a slight pause. _Perhaps simply does not apply in this instance._ The voice then fell silent and receded from her mind, leaving Lyrith to tend to her wound with her new found ability. 

Gently peeling back her now tattered white shirt, Lyrith revealed her gash in her flesh to the open air. It was inflamed and swollen. Leaking blood had been stopped by a kind of black crust. She let out a hiss as a tinge of pain pierced it, making her all the more eager to get this over with. Her shirt held up with her right hand, she held a shaky left hand above it, nervous about what she was about to do. 

A small flame burst to life in Lyrith’s palm as she willed it, the heat licking her fingers as it whipped around wildly. She focused until it took the form of a teardrop, the narrow tip hovering above her wound which continued to ooze. “ _Okayokayokayokay_ ,” she told herself between panicked breaths while she lowered the blowtorch she’d created towards her skin. 

Her mouth forced shut, she pressed the flame against the laceration. Every muscle in her body tensed as she slowly inched the flame across the gash in side, pain tearing through her body so intensely that she nearly lost control of her magic. The smell of seared flesh started to fill the air as she went on but Lyrith pushed past her disgust and continued. A scream flew from her lips when she reached the wider parts of the wound, the flame flickering and her hand trembling as she close the final few inches of the laceration. The fire sputtered out of existence and Lyrith fell onto her hands. 

_I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing what my own flesh smells like,_ she noted while standing on her hands and knees, panting from the effort it had taken. The roaring pain in her side had been reduced to an ache and any infection that had taken root had been successfully burned out. 

The intensity of the pain had drained her of what little energy she had had left, but Lyrith didn’t give herself time to rest. Instead she pulled herself off the ground and stumbled forward, determined to reach Balmora even as bruised and battered as she was. Lyrith scooped the blade off the ground, _I need a weapon_ being the the only thought in her head. 

Blade in one hand and clutching the now soaked messenger bag in the other, Lyrith retread the path she had been knocked off of, keeping an eye on the sky in case another beast wanted to try and kill her. Balmora felt just within reach, its lights shining brightly against the darkness of the night. Though the pain in her side persisted, and her legs began to burn in protest, Lyrith journeyed onward until she on the outskirts of town. She didn’t know how long it had taken but she allowed herself to feel some relief at surviving the land that seemed intent on killing her. 

_I...I made it._ She was so exhausted that even her internal voice was breathing hard. _Hah, I beat you,_ she taunted the land itself as if it was personally out to get her. Tired to the point of falling asleep standing up, Lyrith took her final steps towards Balmora. But she hadn’t noticed the root that protruded from the road in front of her and tripped, her head smacking against the ground.

* * *

 

Boisterous laughter woke Lyrith from what had been the one of the best rests she had ever gotten. Drowsiness was so thick in her mind that she that she existed for a brief second before really waking up. 

Boisterous laughter woke Lyrith from what had been the one of the best rests she had ever gotten. For a moment, the drowsiness in her head was so thick that she forgot she existed. Without knowing who,what, or where she was, Lyrith enjoyed the euphoria of nonexistence. But a split second later reality came crashing down and her guard flew right back up. 

She sprung out of bed and kept low to the ground, fear squeezing her heart so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. Muffled voices came from beneath the floorboards, accompanying shadows that shifted about. Lyrith looked around the fully furnished room for her weapon, worried that whoever had found her had taken it, before she spotted it leaning against the wall next to the bed.  She noticed that the messenger bag had been slung around the bedpost as well, and a new shirt to replace the one Lyrith had ruined had been draped across the nightstand. 

Lyrith let some of the tension ease out of her body after realizing she wasn't in immediate danger. _Whoever found us, I don't think they wanted to hurt us._ She froze in place with a look of confusion across her face for until she realized what she'd said. _Found me. I meant me._ The voice was silent.

After changing, Lyrith threw the messenger bag over her shoulder and grabbed the single bladed sword. _What manner of weapon is that?_ The voice asked as Lyrith prepared to make her way down stairs. 

How would I know? It's sharp, that's all that matters in the end. She held the sword at the ready as she slowly opened the door to her room; there was no feeling of immediate danger, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Sweat beaded on her forehead with each step she took down the stairs, Lyrith anticipating each deteriorated step to let out a cry under the strain of her weight. Like a cat, she crept down until she stood on the ground level where she realized she was in a tavern. Though she wasn't really sure how she knew what a tavern was. 

Dull blue from the early morning, before the sun had risen, hummed behind the few windows that dotted the main room of the tavern. Light given out by the candle stubs that still burned gave the room a homely feeling that made Lyrith ease up, though it was quickly beginning to be drowned out by blooming of the sky. There were a few other people in the tavern besides herself, sitting at the tables and paying her no mind and seemingly consumed by whatever they had front of them whether it be food or drink. A woman leaned against the bar with her eyes closed, sleepily strumming a lute that filled the air with a gentle atmosphere. Lyrith lowered her sword, feeling it was out of place.

"Ah, you woke up." A man called to her from her left. Lyrith was caught off guard by the man's alarming appearance, his frilled lace collar and puffy shouldered shirt being among one of the more alarming things she'd seen so far. He'd been standing a few feet away next to a shelf that held dozens of glass bottles, each one of which held a different colored fluid. Walking towards her, he began to talk. "Here I was thinking you might never wake up and I'd have to clean a corpse from that room." He stuck out a hand, "Bacola Closcius, publican of the South Wall Cornerclub–the establishment that has been generously housing you for the last day and some hours." 

"Lyrith," she replied only briefly shaking Bacola's greasy hand. "Er, how did I get here?" Her last memory was the ground coming at her face at a frightening speed so she assumed she hadn't gotten here by herself. 

"Old Caius brought you in and threw a bag of gold at me. I told him this wasn't a mortuary and he told me you were still alive. And here you are." 

Lyrith cocked her head. "Caius Cosades?" She was surprised that she was able to remember the name without having to look at it written down. 

"The very same. You know him?" 

"No but I'm supposed to bring-" 

Bacola cut her off. "Ah ah ah, you had me at 'no.'" 

Lyrith scoffed and shoved down her anger. There was something about being cut so suddenly that made her blood boil. "Can you at least tell me where he lives?" 

"He rents a little bed-and-basket just up the hill on the north edge of town. Go out the front door -- NOT the upper door to the terrace -- then right up the stairs, then left at the top of the stairs and down to the end of the street." 

Lyrith let out a shaky sigh then made straight for the door, "Thank you!" she shouted behind her back, disturbing the atmosphere that the tavern had taken so long to cultivate. Almost done, she thought while stepping out the door and into the quiet streets. 

_And then what?_ The voice asked. _You do not know where you are and you know no one. You must always be planning ahead._  

She groaned until it turned into a low growl. _Let me have this and I'll deal with that when I get to it._  

_We are rapidly approaching "it."_   Lyrith ignored the voice and continued on her path through the quaint city, following Bacola's directions to a T. She was impressed by the size of Balmora and how it managed to remain so quiet even though it was exponentially bigger than the town she had arrived in.  She felt more comfortable among civilization, but there as still an eerie feeling that she couldn't shake. It felt unsafe. Maybe it was the lack of walls that surrounded the city or perhaps it was that she was alone in a city of hundreds with no one to watch her back. 

The paranoia in the back of her mind festered until it eviscerated Lyrith’s rationale. She was so eager to get out of the streets that by the time she reached Caius’ house she burst through the door unannounced. _Ugh, I’m losing my mind aren’t I? First a voice and now–_  

“They don’t believe in knocking where you’re from?” The house only had one room so Lyrith assumed that the shirtless man that sat on the bed, pipe in hand, was Caius. 

She stuttered trying to think of a response, her palms flat against the door as if she could push her way out of the awkward situation she had thrown herself into.  “Honestly, I don’t know.” She pushed herself off the door and reached into the bag she had carried so far. “I’m Lyrith,” she told Caius, holding out the thoroughly wrapped square package in both hands, “I was sent to-” 

“I know why you’re here, I received a messenger yesterday.” He set the pipe down on the nightstand next to his bed then stood and took the package from her hands. 

Lyrith clicked her tongue at being cut off yet again, but maintained her civility. “I’ve...traipsed across this land to deliver this to you, are you going to start explaining what you want from me?” She had been thrown into a hostile hellscape with little to no explanation and had nearly died from it. She felt that she deserved some answers.

  
Caius was reading a letter that had been hidden in the depths of the brown packaging. “Interesting,” he said as he folded it in half. “It seems the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades.” 

That just made even more questions spring to the forefront of her mind. “A novice in the what?” She was afraid to ask who the Emperor actually was out of fear of offending him but the title said enough for the moment. 

“You’ve never heard of the Blades, girl? Bodyguards to the Emperor as well as his eyes and ears across Tamriel?” 

“Can’t say I have. Though I haven’t heard much of anything.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Ever since I woke up on that ship I haven’t had much of a memory. Bits and pieces have popped in but for the most part it’s just …nothingness.” She had the name, Lyrith, but she didn’t know who Lyrith was. A person’s memories and experiences made them who they are, she knew, and if she didn’t have those, who was she really? A stranger who had woken up in a body she didn’t remember growing into and taking a name that felt… _off._ Lyrith wanted to figure out who she was but she was also conflicted about learning the truth and that somehow it might diminish who she was already. She had only been in this state of mind for a little more than a day, but there were certain things in the bedrock of her personality that she liked and she didn’t like the thought of being altered by whoever she’d been before. _Maybe I’ve always been the same person,_ she pondered, trying to slow the train of thought that had almost derailed itself with its rapid production of thoughts. 

_We are the never the same person throughout our life. We are constantly dying and being reborn, our mind being refreshed as our perspective changes. There is a path ahead of you that you must maintain, regardless of who you might become._ The voice dissipated as soon as it had appeared. 

“The Emperor sent you to me for a reason. I can’t help you with your memory, but I can help you find out _why_ he sent you. That’s somethin’.” 

An odd feeling took root. She could feel eyes boring into her from above and behind and within, eyes that held their breath for an answer. It felt like she was at the crossroads of destiny, she only need say yes.  “I ‘spose I don’t have anywhere else to be.” 

And so their work began.

 

 

 

 


	2. Venturing Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrith continues her adventures in Morrowind, but things quickly spiral out of her control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's definitely not the best thing I've ever written but it's finally finished after 50 years. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Chapter 3 will be coming out shortly and will be far more polished than this.

 

A man led Lyrith up a colossal marble staircase, his face obscured by a frightening golden mask. Darkness encroached on them and devoured the world behind, encouraging Lyrith to not look back. As they climbed ever upward, the stairs grew steeper and more worn, covered in scorch marks and some simply crumbling underfoot the moment Lyrith touched them. Bodies had begun to pile up in every direction around them while they climbed, empty eyed corpses staring at them accusingly as they passed. Years went by as Lyrith climbed alongside the masked figure, her body decayed underneath, every step sending tremors of burning pain throughout her body. Eventually the pain was so excruciating that she was brought to her knees, only to find that the stairs underneath had been replaced with corpses.

In shock, Lyrith pushed her to her feet– the emaciated muscles in her arms making her work for it at first. After shakily rising, she was greeted by the sight of bodies for as far as she could see. The stairs had been transformed into a steep mountain of mutilated  corpses that pierced the heavens.

The masked figure stood atop the mountain, its head tilted as if confused. _Is this not what you wanted?_

Out of instinct Lyrith stepped backwards and plummeted down the side of the mountain, the lips of the corpses she passed curling into a wicked smile as she tumbled into darkness.

As she fell a spindly hand emerged from the dark, illuminated by a familiar orange glow. _Rise with me, my friend, for that is our curse._

 

Lyrith lurched out of bed and inhaled like a freshly resurrected corpse, starved for air.  She was drenched in sweat to the point that she was surprised she hadn’t drowned in her sleep. When she went to push herself off of her now soaked mattress, she found the dagger she kept on her nightstand was grasped  tightly in her right hand to the point that her knuckles had turned white. It must’ve been reflex, for she had no memory of reaching for it, though after such a dream she was glad for it.

She sat on the side of her bed and peeled off the tattered white shirt she wore to sleep then threw it into the dark abyss of her apartment. There was a satisfying wet plop as it landed on the ground. Hopefully it hadn’t landed on any of the scrolls and books she had scattered across her small home.

Her heart still pounded from the dream which had driven her from sleep that she desperately needed. She looked at her hands, still feeling the warm blood on her hands from when she collapsed onto the ground. _It felt too real,_ she thought, still a bit shaky from the visceral feeling of being stared at from the eyes of  mangled, bloodied corpses. It had the feeling of a memory more than a dream, but Lyrith knew that couldn’t possibly be true because of the impossible imagery it had painted.

**_That was not a naturally occurring dream,_** The voice spoke. **_Can you not feel it?_**

Lyrith wasn’t that in tune with her magical abilities but she could feel it, a fading residue on the edge of her mind that had tainted her like an oil slick. An eerie feeling crept over her as she realized that she had been targeted, at least in part, by an insidious magical attack. She sighed. _Lovely. As if my paranoia wasn’t already bad._ That was something to handle when the sun had risen _._

Holding her hand upward, a flame bloomed to life in her palm, burning away the darkness that enveloped her apartment. It was small, single roomed, and Lyrith knew she was a light enough sleeper to be woken up if anyone were to try to break in, but the shadows hid much in the dead of night.

She lit the candle on her nightstand and pulled back the thick curtains that hid a window which sat above the table. It was dark out, with no sign of the sun rising any time soon. The only light that fought back against the darkness were the street lights that lined the roads of Balmora. _I was looking forward to that nap,_ she thought bitterly as she got up and got dressed, resigned to the fact that the anxiety that had seized her chest wasn’t going to let her get anymore rest.

Much of the last two weeks she had spent in Morrowind had been on the road doing work to establish the Blades’ network of informants. It was tiring, bitter work that had resulted in more than a few blisters on Lyrith’s feet but there was something satisfying about it. She had gone from Balmora, to the Bitter Coast from which she had first come, to the town of Ald’Ruhn, bribing informants with gifts or fetching artifacts out of dank and ominous ruins to get their cooperation while only stopping at her apartment in Balmora for a day or two at a time –which she spent feverishly poring through books, not resting. This was supposed to be the first time in two weeks that she could actually rest, but some magic wielding idiot had thought to disturb her.

Once dressed, she grabbed the candlestick holder and made her way towards the table, weaving through the maze of book stacks that had quickly grown inside her room. _Eugh._ One downside to her apartment being lit was that it reminded her of the catastrophic mess she had created. Where there weren’t books, there were scrolls and papers plastered on any clear surface besides the the careful pathways Lyrith had created from the doorway to her bed and then to the table. She had meant to clean it up once she returned from Ald’ruhn, but she had been so exhausted that she had collapsed into a coma from which she didn’t think she would wake from.

Her chair squealed in protest of the violent way Lyrith threw herself into it, but she had learned to ignore the almost nauseating whine that the fragile wood produced. Three books were splayed out before her on the table: _Ancestors of the Dunmer, Aedra and Daedra,_ and _The Third Door,_  none of which she had touched in days. She knew it was likely a bad idea to read three different books about wildly different subjects at the same time, but Lyrith felt restless if she only ever focused on one thing at a time. Though she risked cross contaminating any knowledge she gained.

One of the first things she had down once she had her own place and free time was immerse herself in every book, scroll, and document she could find. Lyrith thought that if she could learn enough about Morrowind, maybe it would trigger something that’d cause her memory to come flooding back. So far it had only helped recall miscellaneous facts about the land and a dozen different topics that were interesting in their own right, but they weren’t what she was looking for.  There was an unslakable thirst for knowledge in her heart but the frustration she felt at the lack of progress towards remembering who she was discouraged her sometimes.

_Who would’ve thought that reading seven different volumes about Daedra wouldn’t have reminded me of anything,_ she mused as she closed one of the books before her and hurled it onto one of the book pillars that had risen up around her apartment, toppling it. She cracked a small smile, then dove between the pages once more.

For hours she sat reading by candlelight, slowly passing time while she waited for the sun to resume its place in the sky so her day could begin. By the time her candle burned out and a harsh orange glow peaked over the horizon, the books before her lie finished. Lyrith had been determined to make sure that she had finished _The Third Door_ before her sparring session with Eydis, her trainer from the Fighters Guild. She had gifted to Lyrith in hopes that she’d pick up some useful self defense tips from it. In the end Lyrith hadn’t, but who didn’t like a good revenge tale?

Lyrith navigated her way through the chaos towards the door, seeing that the sun had risen high enough for civilization to resume. As she left her apartment her right hand began to ache which– combined with the grim, black clouds churning overhead that had apparently rolled across the sky in the time it had taken her to step outside, told Lyrith that it was going to rain. She didn’t know what had happened to her right hand, but she’d noticed that whenever rain was close, it began to ache.

Not that Lyrith would complain about the rain, the heat often brought out the most rank smells that drifted off of the Bitter Coast which was, much to the dismay of Lyrith’s senses, not too far away. The rain would at least suppress part of the scent. She quickly donned a leather coat she had received as a gift from a contact in Ald’ruhn and then headed out for the day, armed with nothing but dagger up her sleeve.

In the weeks that had past, Lyrith had gotten used to walking Balmora’s streets by herself but she always carried a weapon. She did her best to seem friendly by flashing everyone she made eye contact with a smile, but she also worried that that only brought more attention to herself. Even though her paranoia had eased, she still made her way through the streets and across one of the bridges that connected the two halves of the city as fast as possible. Lyrith preferred the side of the city that had the Fighter’s Guild and the seat of House Hlaalu since the guards on the other half always seemed to make themselves scarce.  

Approaching the entrance to the Fighter’s Guild she saw that her trainer, Eydis Fire-Eye, was already waiting for her in the circular clearing just down the street. It was Caius who had recommended that Lyrith join one of the guilds that operated out of the city. He had told her that it’d be smart to have a cover, Lyrith had heeded his advice but truth be told she was more interested in learning how to defend herself and use the weapon she had found in the murk.

Lyrith had learned that she was an incredibly fast learner and it was satisfying for her to watch herself slowly become more efficient in the lessons Eydis shared. Her muscles grew more taut and breaths became easier when she hiked her way to whatever assignment Caius gave her. _I’ll conquer this land yet,_ She thought, determined never to be underprepared for any challenges that Morrowind may throw at her.

“You’re earlier than usual,” Eydis commented as Lyrith approached, swinging one of the practice katanas that she had brought with her.

“I ran out of stuff to read,” Lyrith replied. Her eyes widened. “Gods I forgot to bring your book back,” she patted her coat, hoping that it had hidden itself somewhere on her person.

“It was a gift, don’t worry about it really.”  
  
“No, I insist,” She cut herself off short from saying _I don’t want you to think I owe you anything._ Eydis was probably the closest thing that Lyrith had to a friend and even then she didn’t like having any kind of debt. In her weeks in Balmora she had become acquaintances with many people who probably thought they were friends, but Lyrith felt people were too fast to give that title. She didn’t know them, and they definitely didn’t know her.

“It can wait then.” Eydis plucked a sword out of the ground and tossed towards Lyrith and got into a stance with her own blade. “Best we get started I have a busy day ahead.”

Lyrith snatched the katana out of the air then shrugged off her jacket, careful to make sure it fell to the ground gently. Both hands grasping the long hilt, she extended her blade and adopted a stance to match Eydis’.

A clang rang throughout the clearing as their blades met.

When she had first came to the Fighter’s Guild, she had contemplated giving up. The muscles in her arms had been frail and started to burn after every couple of swings, but now she admired the way the her muscles look chiseled into the skin of her arms.

In the span of a few weeks, Lyrith had grown to match a woman with decades of experiences. It was odd how quickly things had changed, how rapidly she had grown. Even now as she sparred with Eydis, she could see the result of her own training. Before, she had collapsed under the intense onslaught of Eydis’ strength but now she met her blow for blow.

**_Strike now_ ** _,_ commented the voice, drawing Lyrith’s eye to a flaw in Eydis’ stance that made her unstable. Lyrith took its advice without a second thought and unleashed her strength onto her tutor. The power that drove her blade forward was so great that it blew Eydis’ katana from her hand and threw the woman onto the ground.

Eydis tried to stop her fall with her right hand, resulting in her palm being skinned. Lyrith could see pebbles embedded in the exposed flesh and felt an instant pang of guilt.She pulled herself off the ground and studied her new wound.  “Not bad,” she declared, giving an approving nod. Lyrith was about to offer to heal her wound when she saw wisps of magicka peeling off of the now healed skin on Eydis’ palm.

Once Eydis reclaimed her katana, their intricate dance began again, a few onlookers gathering after a time as the two warriors unleashed their fury onto one another. Even though it was practice, the viciousness with which they dueled was intense. Lyrith knew that if their weapons hadn’t been dulled to practice with, they would both be dead by now.  

The thick, ominous clouds that dominated the sky above hid the sun, letting Lyrith get lost in the intensity of the fight without paying to how much time had passed. When the two of them finally pulled away from each other, Lyrith’s muscles had been turned to jelly and burned from the simple task of holding her sword up. The powerful strikes they’d exchanged had caused her to become immersed in sweat once more and when combined with the soupish humidity in the air made Lyrith feel uncomfortable and gross

“You’ve gotten quite good,” Eydis panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Though she quickly gained control of her breathes, Lyrith could tell that she had pushed Eydis near her limit. Something to be proud of considering the experience gap between them.

Still, it wouldn’t be enough for her. As long as there were people who she knew could best her,  Lyrith would never stop training. There was an addiction in watching herself grow in skill and power.

It took a blinding ray of light peeking out from behind a cloud to remind her of her second appointment for day. Quickly, she stabbed her sword into the ground and scooped her coat off the ground.“Have to go bye!” She shouted behind her, shoving her arms into her coat and leaving Eydis in a cloud of dust. Her words were so jumbled she wondered if Eydis had actually understood what she had said.

With her jacket flapping wildly behind her, Lyrith sprinted towards the blacksmith as fast as she could. No matter how small of an appointment it may have been, Lyrith hated being late. Not that that stopped her from being late, time to time. Besides, this was something she’d been excited about for weeks.

The constant noise that emanated from the forge cut through the silent atmosphere that Balmora usually dwelled in. It was the sound that had drawn her to this place days ago while Lyrith tried to paint a mental map of Balmora by walking all of its streets. Her attention had been quickly stolen by the magic of the forge. She had the ability to conjure fire to her fingertips but to her, the art of creation seemed like _true_ magic. Completely enraptured, she stared into the forge with eyes wide, and for a few moments was completely oblivious to the world.

Unfortunately, Lyrith had been staring too long and drew the attention of the smith, a Dunmeri man by the name of Braddard. From there he had struck up a conversation even as Lyrith tried to drift away from him and escape him. At one point he had noticed the sword Lyrith had worn her hip, the one she had pulled from the mire and escaped death with. He had offered to fix it for free; “it’s not every day that a man sees an Akaviri Dai Katana,” he had told her. Even though it was still in usable condition despite the hostile environment she’d found it in, Lyrith accepted his offer and had left it with him a few weeks back. The one catch being that she insisted on paying him in full for his services. He seemed like a greasy man, not the type she’d want to be indebted to. So she had been sure to carry enough Septims to pay for it as she made her way to the shop.

Usually, the sound of the forge could be heard from all across Balmora but today it was quiet. Lyrith landed in front of it, her heels digging into the dirt as she came to an abrupt stop. She had been running so fast she had started to wonder if she would be able to stop.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d be by to pick this up,” a raspy voice called from within the forge. It was a voice that seemed like it’d better suited belonging to a cutthroat in a dark alleyway, not a blacksmith. The embers within the forged glowed softly, casting a soft orange light throughout the claustrophobic room that served as Braddard’s place of business. A damaged, crooked hand guided a cloth that was damp with oil up and down the single sided blade, Braddard holding the freshly made hilt in his free hand. He inspected it one last time then grabbed a simple, black scabbard that leaned against the front counter and sheathed it. He offered the blade to Lyrith hilt first to which she responded by eagerly taking it from him.

The katana slid from the scabbard without a sound, the refurbished blade now reflecting the gloomy clouds that still hovered above Balmora. “This is...amazing,” Lyrith gasped, her eyes wide with awe as she gave the sword a few swings. The air recoiled from its sharpness, hissing to escape the path she carved.

  
“Always a pleasure doing business with someone who appreciates my art,” Braddard replied, wiping his hands on the side of his pants to free them from the oil they were covered in. “Y’know, me offer still stands to teach you.”

“Ahh well. I’ll have to think it about it,” she laughed and thrust the katana back into the scabbard as fast as she could manage. She was interested in learning, but Lyrith was also under the impression that he had only offered to teach her because he thought she found him attractive. Which, now that she thought about it, might be _partially_ her fault since the first time they met she had been staring quite intensely. Still, she was glad that she paid him in advance so that their business could be over and done with once and for all.

A few rogue raindrops fell from the sky, signalling that the storm had truly arrived. She would have to get home soon if she wanted to avoid the full force of the storm’s fury.

With the storm came a furious wind that whipped Lyrith’s long, thick hair like dust in a tornado, testing the strength of the tie she used to keep it in a ponytail. Katana in hand, she made her way back to her apartment, more pep in her step as she strode through the streets this time. Without any warning, a downpour broke free from the under belly of the clouds, bathing the streets in a thunderous roar of rain. Sheets of water fell from the sky, the sheer amount of water coupled with the surprise making Lyrith think that she was drowning for a moment. Picking up her pace to as fast as she could manage,  bolted through the streets; desperate to escape the cataclysmic amount of rain that was quickly turning the city into a lake.

A peal of thunder shook the ground beneath her so violently that Lyrith was almost thrown off her feet. It reminded of her of the tales she had read about the Greybeards; a mythic order that lived on the Throat of the World. Their voices wielded so much power that when they spoke the world quaked before them. That thought had unintentionally made the storm more eerie than it really was, making her long for the warmth and shelter of home even more.

She was drenched to the bone by the time she finally reached her apartment, fumbling with her pockets and rushing to produce her key so she could escape into the dryness of her apartment. There was a satisfying click once she thrust the key into the lock and turned it. Having nothing planned for the rest of the day, Lyrith was looking forward to spending the rest of the dreary day buried in books that she had had no chance to read yet.

Right as she was about to step through her door, a voice cut through the cacophonous noise that drowned out all else.  “Are you Lyrith?” Her left hand fell to the sword on her belt as she turned around, ready to strike.

A boy –little more than a child, stared up at her, his red eyes meeting hers. “Who’s asking?” Lyrith sputtered out as the torrential rain battered her face. He was clearly no threat but she remained on guard still.

The boy reached into his coat and produced a brown envelope that became quickly stained. “It’s from Caius Cossades, ma’am. They told me to deliver it to you as fast as I could!”

“ _This was supposed to be my day off,_ ” she muttered under her breath, quickly taking the letter then rushing into her apartment, basically slamming the door shut in the boy’s face. Lyrith peeled off her now waterlogged coat and hung it on a hook beside the fireplace. There was a circle of flooring around the fireplace that was free of paper after an incident in which Lyrith had forgotten that paper was flammable. She flicked a flame from her finger and set the logs in the hearth ablaze.

Warmth now beginning to burn out the bitter cold that had accompanied the rain, Lyrith sat on her bed and peeled open the soggy envelope. Hopefully its contents hadn’t been destroyed by the rain.

_Kid,_

“Does he always have to call me kid?” Lyrith whispered in an angry aside.  _I_ _’ve been recalled to the Imperial City for a few weeks, but we still have work to do. I need you to meet Mehro Malo in Vivec, I’ve got her holed up in a safe room inside a store called Jubasha’s Rare Books. I need you to check in with her and see what she knows about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House before we can let her go. Again this is highly sensitive work so make sure you aren’t followed._

_I’ll be back by the time you’re done most likely. We need to talk as soon as possible. There are things about your role in our order that you need to know. Things you should’ve known from the start._

_-C.C_

 

Her fingers rushed to fold the letter back into thirds then toss it into sea of paper on the floor. An uncomfortable feeling grew to dominate her mind.There was that word again. _Nerevarine._ It seemed to be popping up more and more as her work with the Blades continued. Something about it made her skin itch. Though that might’ve been due to the  ominous ending to his letter which also put her on edge.

Caius hadn’t told her why they needed the information they were having her collect, but in her spare time Lyrith had learned plenty about this Nerevarine that dominated the topics of her missions. Records surrounding them were vague but it was said that one day, Saint Nerevar would be born again to bring radical change to all of Morrowind and strike down the false gods that now ruled it. _What could the Blades possibly gain from that?_ She wondered.  The prophecies painted them as an agent of chaos, which meant even if this Nerevarine could be made into some kind of ally, that wouldn’t serve the interests of an order in service to the emperor. Lyrith thought it more likely that they saw this being as a threat, since that would explain why Caius had her constantly seeking intel on them. Even then much of the information she had gained was muddied and vague, leaving the Nerevarine a mystery.

But this “Sixth House” was something she had seen mentioned before in texts related to the Nerevarine, but she still hadn’t learned what it was.

A drop of water fell onto her head, breaking the thought she had been buried in. She looked up to see that the force of the rain had punched a hole in her ceiling.   _Lovely, something else to worry about._ Slowly but surely, the hole was growing which insured  that her roof would come crashing down on her in her sleep if she didn’t fix it immediately.  At least, that’s what her mind told her. She was often too ready to believe her own worst fears.

**_I may be of some assistance,_ ** the voice offered, breaking the unusual silence it had held throughout the day so far. **_I recall a spell that will be of use._ **

“Ah, you remember more?” Lyrith questioned with a click of her tongue. Her voice rose higher as it did when she was about to dig into a topic. Much like herself, the voice remembered  close to nothing about itself. She had spent a lot of time of the past weeks tearing into it with questions about itself only to be annoyingly shot down with the flaccid replies of _No_ and _I do not recall._

**_Most of my memory remains vacant but I have begun to, yes._ ** its voice was edged with the irritation it bore whenever she asked it questions. Her head started to tingle as the knowledge poured into her mind.It wasn’t long before she could see what she needed to do in her mind’s eye.

Uncomfortable as their bond may have been, Lyrith had come to to appreciate the help the voice offered even though if it was a complete grouch while teaching. Besides the spell it was currently teaching how to use, the voice had passed on a significant amount of knowledge to Lyrith. Whether it be magic, hand to hand combat, or herbal remedies, it offered what little it could remember as it came to it. Somehow it was able to transfer the knowledge directly between them when things were too complicated to explain.

Part of her was nervous about what she was actually doing, letting some foreign power trickle information into her mind but at the same time, she couldn’t sense any hostile intentions. Her gut instinct was to trust it, which was odd considering her first instinct with anything in Morrowind so far had been to swamp it in anxiety until she conjured up a hundred different scenarios in which to deal with it were things to go badly. Perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest technique mentally, but she hadn’t died yet so it must’ve been working.

The steps to cast the spell now clearly in her mind, she precariously held a hand towards the ceiling. An odd, tingling feeling started consuming her palm as she called to the Magic that dwelled within her.  A blue barrier sprouted into creation and covered the the hole that had been created in the ceiling, slowly growing as Lyrith focused as hard as she could until it covered the entirety of the ceiling. Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead, the strenuous effort of casting the spell had left her exhausted.

**_Your strength grows too slowly,_ ** the voice noted as she tied off the spell, ensuring that it wouldn't end once the well of Magicka that Lyrith tapped into ran dry.  

"I know," Lyrith heaved, still trying to catch her breath.  The physical exhaustion that came with casting spells above her caliber was something she could really do without. It made her feel vulnerable and wary to use spells in combat, should she ever need to.  "But progress is progress, I 'spose."

**_You must push yourself harder._ **

Lyrith scoffed. "And what? Fall over dead? I'm doing my best without killing myself."

**_Do not snap at me, girl. You underestimate yourself and it will cost you._ **  Lyrith made great effort to suppress her anger.

When it came to expanding her skills with Magic, she had almost pushed herself to the brink of death in practice. Whenever the voice deemed it time to pass on its knowledge– which was annoyingly irregular, it always grew annoyed with her for not showing instant mastery.

She did restrict her own strength, but it was for good reason.  Lyrith was scared of magic, deep down she fearing that she would lose control of the techniques the voice had taught her and destroy herself.  Even if her nervousness stopped her from embracing her magic potential, the voice had no right to sit in judgement of her. She wanted to confront it, but she knew getting into a shouting match would do no good.

“Do you remember your name?” If it gave her nothing else about itself, she was tired of not even being able to a put a name to the mysterious and worrying presence that occupied her mind.

There was a pregnant pause before it answered. **_Yin._ **

“Just Yin?”

**_Yes._ **

“Is there anything else you can remember?” Lyrith waited for a response. And waited. And kept waiting. She sighed, “I suppose this conversation is over then.” How hard could it be to just say no?

She stood and walked towards the mirror that was on the wall outside the nook that she kept her bed in. In front of it was a small table where she’d put a basin of water and wash herself when she couldn’t make it to one of the bathing places around town. Placing her hands on both sides of the table, she leaned on it with her full weight and took a look at herself in the mirror.

It was weird for her to look at herself in the mirror, her eyes that looked like they had been stained with blood staring back at her. She pulled at the dark bags under her eyes, examining her soot colored skin. Something about her appearance alarmed for a reason she couldn't really pin down. She felt comfortable in her own skin, but there was still surprise every time she glanced her own reflection.

Overall, she looked like she’d been pulled from a sewer. The humidity that the storm had saturated the air with had turned her long, thick hair that fell down to the middle of her back into a frazzled, tangled mess with a few of the rogue strands clinging to the damp skin on her neck. It took her minutes to finally tame her hair and pull it back into a ponytail that was as thick as her wrist. She watched it swing as she tilted her head side to side before the impulsively grabbed her sword and cut it off just above the tie, an audible _plop_ as the thicket of hair hit the ground. Almost immediately she regretted her decision and mourned the loss of her hair.

**_Better for fighting,_ ** Yin commented.

“But at what cost?” Lyrith exhaled dramatically, running her right hand through her now choppy, short hair. It was weirdly refreshing, like her head had been relieved of a great weight that she had been unknowingly carrying around this whole time.

Now that that was done, she walked to her desk and pried open one of the many unfinished books she had lying around. It was frustrating to have her day cut short by an unexpected mission that had been thrown at her out of nowhere but it was easy to lose her frustrations within the pages before her.

Hours blurred together, the constant downpour of rain taking her into a trance-like state that she was only torn from when the stench of hot leather wafting off her jacket filled her nose. She rushed to the fireside– knocking over several stacks of books in the process– and pulled her coat off the hook in a panic. After inspecting it thoroughly, Lyrith threw her arms into the sleeves and refastened her sword to her belt. The way the warmth that had soaked into the leather seeped into her skin brought on a comforting weariness.

But the day was still young and the ride to Vivec would be far, even on the back of a Silt Strider. Calling to her magic once more, Lyrith tore the heat out of the logs and extinguished the fire before setting out.  Lyrith pulled up her hood which shielded her from the rain while she turned the key in the lock until it clicked. The storm still blustered, it’s cold and biting wind which carried the rain sideways quickly sapped the heat from her body.

Lyrith ran as fast as she dared through flooded streets, each of her feet splashing heavily to insure that she wouldn’t slip and fall. By the time she had started to climb the platform that led up to the Silt Strider caravanner, her cheeks were numb from the vicious wind that, if she didn’t know any better, seemed to be fighting her in an attempt from to keep her from her goal.  
  
“Outlander,” the caravanner acknowledged once Lyrith finished climbing the staircase.

She dug into her pocket, grabbed a handful of Septims, then thrust them into his hands. “Vivec,” the words fell from her mouth as she wearily climbed onto the Silt Strider. _I still don’t trust these,_ she grumbled internally while taking a seat on top of the creepy, multi limbed, untrustworthy creature. Luckily the carriage had a canopy enveloping it to shield them from the rain.

**_You must rest before we arrive._ **

_On this thing? You’re joking._ Silt Striders weren’t known for their speed so it wasn’t as if there was a risk of her being thrown off of it, but they were still uncomfortably high. Lyrith passed into a trance of sorts to try and numb the immense boredom that came with sitting still for so long without anything to occupy her. In hindsight, she knew she should’ve thought of that before rushing out of her house but it was too late now.

A handful of restless hours passed before Vivec finally came into view. The journey felt like it had taken an eternity but Lyrith knew that otherwise it would taken her more than a day to make it to the city.

As Vivec came into view, Lyrith found it hard not to marvel at the magnificence of the city. It was sprawling beyond belief, consuming the horizon from end to end. The city extended out onto the water, built in defiance of nature as it floated. **_Hubris to build a monstrosity such as this,_ ** Yin hissed in Lyrith’s head.

She leaned towards agreeing. Having read about Vivec, she knew that it was a city built by the living god as a monument to themselves and the Tribunal as a whole. A reminder to the people of Morrowind of their power and divinity. And if the city wasn’t proof enough, the floating meteor that was suspended above the city should have done the trick. The Ministry of Truth, as it was known, had loomed ominously above the city for centuries and was a constant in Vvardenfell’s skyline. As impressive as that feat was, it seemed to Lyrith like it would’ve been a better idea to move it somewhere where it didn’t stand the chance to crash into Morrowind’s most populous city.

The Silt Strider conveniently carried Lyrith to the Foreign Quarter canton–one of the many artificial islands that made up the city– that she held her destination. She gladly climbed out of the Strider and stepped onto the wooden platform, eager to stretch her legs. Jogging down the stairs Lyrith landed on the lowest floor of the canton. _How is this place even possible?_ She wondered, bouncing her heels on the stone road, testing to see if it would sink with the addition of her weight. They must’ve weighed thousands of tons each and yet they remained suspended in the water.

Lyrith stepped through one of the rounded archways that led into the canton itself. On the outside, the canton seemed massive but inside it was doubly so. Filled with different shops, stalls, and bustling with activity, the canton was big enough to be a city in its own right. There were cobblers, blacksmiths, pawn shops, and emissaries from each of the guilds scattered about the plaza. Even the building itself was a work of art, the canton’s walls covered in mosaics of Vivec’s many feats which were basked in soft artificial lighting.

Every muscle in her upper body tensed. _How am I supposed to find anything in here?_ She scanned the plaza, desperately looking for any sign that would point her in the right direction. An idea came to her mind and Lyrith started scanning the crowd. Almost immediately she spotted an Ordinator: a religious warrior that acted as guard in Vivec. Their gold and blue armor was easy to spot. Surely they would know their way around enough to point her in the right direction.

Lyrith projected her voice to cut through the noise of the crowd, “Excuse me.” Once the Ordinator turned to face her, she jumped in her skin at the sight of the mask they wore. It was one thing to read that they wore the face of Saint Nerevar as a helm, but to see it in person was gruesome and deeply unsettling.

“Hail citizen.” The words came muffled from golden lips that didn’t move. Shaking away her initial shock, Lyrith asked him for direction for Jubasha’s Rare Books then was quickly on her way.

His directions lead Lyrith far away from the hustle and bustle of the main plaza into a remote corner of the canton that contained only a handful of quiet shops most of which had their doors closed. _This is nice,_ she felt her shoulders ease up once she was a ways away from the massive crowd. Above each of the larged rounded doorways that were cut into hall, a sign jutted out for each respective business. Reading each as she walked past, it didn’t take Lyrith long to find the battered sign that hung above the entrance to Jubasha’s.

She started to reach for the door’s handle when a splash beneath her feet stopped her. Blood poured out from behind the door and formed a dark, syrupy pool. It was deep enough that stepping in it caused blood to splash up onto Lyrith’s pant leg.

Her sword flew into her hand upon noticing and her blood ran cold in her veins. Later she would have to beat up on herself for not noticing a pool of blood in the middle of a hallway but at the moment she had more immediate concerns.

Thankfully, the door glided open without a sound after she gave the heavy oaken door a solid push. It would be hard to picture how the bookstore might’ve once looked like since an explosion of blood and gore covered the walls, bookshelves, and even reached the ceiling. On the floor were piles of smoldering flesh that Lyrith assumed had once been people. Now they looked like they had been turned inside out and had their flesh strewn across the store.

_These people weren’t killed... they were eviscerated._ Horror crept into her heart as she slowly walked through the store, each step feeling like it took an eternity. _I really don’t think I should be here,_ Lyrith thought while coming across another bloody mass of flesh. She was too shocked to be disgusted and hoped that that would last until she left the scene the behind.

**_I do not believe it coincidence that such an event occurred where we were meant to be. We must find these perpetrators. If not to find out why, to protect any others from such a gruesome fate._ **

Even though every inkling of common sense in her head screamed at her to leave before she was turned into mulch, Lyrith knew that Yin was right and past her fear and shock, agreed with him.

There was a trail of bloody footprints that led deeper into the store that Lyrith followed against her better judgement. Making her way through rows of bookshelves, she prepared to lunge every time she rounded a corner. She didn’t know if it was her paranoia, some innate ability, or just common sense but she could feel the evil lurking just out of sight.

Eventually the trail led to a heavy stone door that had been torn off it’s hinges and had been placed on the wall next to the doorway. Through the doorway lied a staircase that led down into total darkness. And into darkness she went, knowing that if she hesitated for even a second that she would talk herself out of it.

In the narrowness of the staircase, Lyrith felt like the darkness was bearing down on and squeezing her. She held out her free left hand and cast a spell that expelled an orb of light from her palm which then bobbed two or three feet in front of her and ensured that the path in front of her was free of shadows.

She landed with a splash in the thin, murky layer of water that covered the bottom of the sewer once she stepped off the staircase. After having descended for minutes, Lyrith found herself in the bowels of the canton, the cavernous sewer tunnels so wide that even with her light the shadows persisted.

_Why am I doing this?_ She pondered, now making a straight line through the sewer since the water had made her trail disappear. _Really, why? This is an idea that ends in with me being turned into another pile of mush._

Her question was rhetorical and didn’t garner any kind of response from Yin, but Lyrith hoped that he would’ve said something to break the uneasy quiet. It was the kind of silence that felt oppressive in its nature and nearly made her ears buzz. Seconds later, Lyrith would find herself regretting even the slightest complaint.

Silence had been her companion while she navigated the sewers but then something sinister began to fill the void. Whispers at first, that Lyrith thought was a result of her paranoia coupling with her creativity to imagine monsters in the shadows. But then they spoke.

“ _We were beginning to think you would not come_ _,”_ the words crept from a raspy voice that seemed to emanate from the every shadow. Without thinking, Lyrith threw up her left hand and a plume of flame erupted from her hand and filled the tunnel in front of her. It burned away all shadow and revealed to Lyrith that she was alone.

**_Control yourself,_ ** Yin told her after the harsh light faded and she started shaking her hand which had been scolded by the massive column of fire that she had summoned.

_I know._ She studied her hand.Smoke peeled off of her fingertips and there was a noticeable tremble that had taken hold of her. She didn’t know she had that kind of power in her. It was good to know, considering the situation that she had put herself in but she hoped she hadn’t expended a lot of her magical stamina.

Two haunting laughs filled the darkness, assaulting Lyrith from every angle. Her ball of light having winked out of existence during her reflex driven attack, she was now alone in the darkness facing two mysterious adversaries. They wielded monstrous power if these were the same people who perpetrated the attack. Fear kept her tongue in her mouth and prevented her from responding to the disembodied voices so she proceeded silently as the ominous laughter echoed in the tunnel.

Lyrith had hoped that maybe the tunnel would never end so she could put off the confrontation forever but eventually the tunnel came to an end and opened up into a wide chamber. Her heart sank; there was no putting this off. If only she had followed her initial instincts and ran the opposite direction. But now that she was here, she couldn’t back down. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she allowed these two to escape justice.  
  
The chamber curved upward dozens of feet above, ending at a crate carved into the floor of one of the cantons. Soft light was filtered from the enormous structure above, just enough so Lyrith wouldn’t have to cast another Light to be able to see.

But this also revealed something sinister. Bathed in the soft light from above were two ashy figures that stood on the other side of the chamber, waiting. They resembled Dunmer, but their skin clung to their emaciated muscles, making them look like corpses. Mostly naked and eyes burning red, they stared Lyrith down with grim smiles carved into the leathery skin on their faces.

_“_ _We wondered if you would ever arrive_ _,”_ one rasped sarcastically, stroking his braided beard that fell down to his chest with his sharply taloned fingers.

_“_ _Cowardice is not something that courses through your veins_ _,”_ called the other from their position down the chamber. Both wore crowns, Lyrith noticed, wondering if they represented a rank of some kind. But for whom?

_What does that mean?_ “If you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood to talk,” Lyrith deflected, trying to make herself seem more confident than she really was. The fear she tried to ignore made her voice louder than she meant it to be. **_Brace yourself._ **

_“_ _So be it_ _.”_ Yin’s warning came too late as a screeching figure came careening out of the shadows and slammed into her so violently that the air was knocked from her lungs. Something snapped in her left shoulder as Lyrith and the creature slammed into the wall and rolled away from each other. Her sword was thrown from her hand and into the depths of shadow, leaving Lyrith only armed with her magic once she was able to regain control of the situation.

Clutching at her ribs with her left hand and propping herself up on the damp, sticky stone with her right, Lyrith glanced up at the figure that had thrown itself at herself so viciously. At first look, Lyrith thought it was a ruined Dunmer, like the ones who had summoned it, but then it turned to face her. Its eyes and nose had been carved out, leaving a gaping space in its head.

_THIS CAN’T BE REAL,_ Lyrith’s inner voice screamed. She scrambled out of the way as the zombie lurched after her again, talons outstretched and fangs bared. Lyrith managed to escape the zombie’s charge just in time, leaving it to slip on the slimy stone underneath and violently slammed into the wall.

Now back towards the entrance, she struggled to bring herself to her feet on the slippery floor. While the creature struggled to recovered from its vicious collision, Lyrith frantically scanned the chamber searching for her sword. _Of course it’s there,_ she groaned, spotting her single sided blade basically at the feet of the beings who had attacked her.

She went to take a step, mindlessly planning to rush them and retrieve her weapon even though it would quickly end in her demise when a voice boomed within her mind. **_Stand your ground. You cannot hope to kill them so easily; this is a war of attrition now._ **

Lyrith’s heartbeat was a blur, a constant vibrating hum in her chest. Planting her feet in the ground the best she could so she wouldn’t slip so easily, she armed herself with her magic and prayed that she would have stamina to survive. She prayed, but she didn’t dare hope.

By the time she was ready to defend herself, the first zombie had begun its charge at her once again. With a thrust of her left palm, a fireball was expelled from her palm and engulfed the creature in flame. It fell to the ground screaming.

_Frightening but flammable,_ Lyrith noted, allowing a bit of relief enter her panicked state of mind. Then three more of the creatures materialized out of the shadows and leapt at her, snuffing out that relief as soon as it had appeared.

Fear fueled her reflexes, allowing her to throw bolts of fire at two of the creatures almost immediately but the third had dodged to the side and began serpentining across the floor until it was only a few feet away. Without a second thought she released a large peal of flame that burned so brightly that it blinded her for a moment.

After releasing the spell Lyrith could feel a noticeable drop in power after dipping so deeply into her magicka reserves. _Ugh, idiot – if I do that again I’m done for._ If she wanted to last she would have to watch her usage so she didn’t run out of power too soon. All of the creatures that had attacked her had been reduced to piles of ash due to her backlash, and even their leaders had to dodge out of the way to avoid the inferno she had summoned.

As five more creatures emerged from the shadows, Lyrith knew that her time to think was over and that the battle for her survival had truly begun.

One after another the horrors threw themselves at her, pouring infinitely out of the dark. Lyrith did well, reducing them to cinders with precisely flung fireballs and bolts of lightning. But she could feel her power beginning to wane as she cut down wave after wave of enemies, their onslaught not stopping long enough to even give her a moment’s reprieve.

The twisted creatures that led the assault taunted her as she fought on. “ _How disappointing. Perhaps you are not what we thought,”_ one of the leaders taunted, its voice bouncing off the walls and hissing in her ears. The cryptic words lingered in her mind, making her slip up as she fought– one of the creatures nearly making it past her defenses.

_“Your strength was that of legend, who knew how greatly exaggerated it was.”_

For some reason their words put her in a daze. _What...what are they talking about?_ Deep within Lyrith felt like she could feel the answer just on the tip of her tongue but it wouldn’t come.

It mattered little; if she didn’t escape soon she’d never have the chance to ask questions. _How do I get out of this?_ Lyrith demanded of her brain, tearing it apart to find some plan that had to lurk inside.  The constant onslaught of attacks left her unable to try to gain any ground and the focus it took to fight back the waves of enemies kept her from thinking too deeply.

Frustration fanned the flames of her magic, each spell growing in power as Lyrith started to lose control of her temper. Then a switch inside her head flicked on and a plan was born. A plan that had an equal chance of resulting in her death as it did result in her getting out alive.

**_Are you absolutely sure about this?_ ** Yin asked, the skepticism layered thick onto his voice.

Lyrith laughed, though it was so short lived it resembled more of a cough than a laugh. _Not at all. But it’s this or nothing at this point and I’m not to die in this…this shitty place._

She pushed a breath from her lungs then inhaled as deeply as she could. Time seemed to slow to a crawl once her plan was set in motion. Magicka built inside her until she felt ready to be torn apart by the sheer power. Then, a violent fireball was unleashed from her hands, as if a dragon had opened its maw and expelled its fiery wrath into the chamber. A blazing white inferno as bright as the sun, the fireball continued to roar and shake the room long after Lyrith’s initial casting.

Using what the little power she had left, Lyrith cast a barrier around herself and used it to part the flames while she dashed forward. Even with the thin barrier around herself, the fire lapped at her clothes and hair, singing it.

Forward she ran, even as the inferno and her barrier started to falter. The blinding light burned sunspots into her eyes while she sought after her objective. After what seemed like an eternity her sword came into view just in front of the two wicked creatures who were hiding behind barriers that barely stood up to the power of firestorm Lyrith had summoned, blue light of their shields flickering and shuddering as they struggled to maintain. Their eyes squeezed shut to shield their pupils, they didn’t notice  Lyrith reaching down for the blade as she ran.

The metal of the blade had been brought to a dull red under the extreme heat that had been forced onto it. As Lyrith reached down and wrapped her hand around the sword’s hilt, the thin metal grip that had been worked into it melted the skin on her palm.

The intensity of the pain forced a scream from her lips, but she endured and aimed a swing with all her strength behind it towards the monster to her right. Though it had been shielding itself, Lyrith’s sword carved through it like butter and cleaved the creature in half. Her spells came to a sudden and unceremonious end once her reserves of Magicka were finally exhausted. She had been lucky that the little power that she had had left was able to last those few precious seconds.

Her ears still ringing from the roar of the inferno and her hand burned so badly it felt welded to her katana, Lyrith wasted no time turning to kill the other, only to find that it had melted into the shadow and disappeared.

She searched the chamber, whose floors were now blackened and had smoke peeling off of it. Nothing but shadows and the pale light that bled in through the sewer drain accompanied her.

_“Impressive,”_ hissed the creature, its voice projecting from the shadows. Though its voice sounded corrupted and inhuman, Lyrith could hear the tinge of humor that it brought with it. “ _We thought you nothing more than another Pretender but Our Lord was right in what he saw in you.”_  
  
“What are you talking about?!” Lyrith yelled back with her hoarse voice. She was tired of vaguitries. She had been nearly killed and pushed to her very limit, she needed to know what was going on.

A disturbing, shrill laugh filled the room. “ _You do not know?”_ The laugh continued for sometime, much to the dismay of Lyrith’s shattered nerves. “ _Born of blood and ash” it started mockingly, “Azura’s chosen.”_ There was a pause then another laugh. “ _You truly do not know?”_ The darkness surrounding Lyrith shuddered, the its intensity began to wane, carrying the mocking laughter with it. “ _Soon we will be unbound and not even your false gods will be able to save you. Be sure to remember who you are… Nerevarine, for you are the only shield they have.”_

For a moment, Lyrith was frozen in place while her mind tried desperately to comprehend what she had been told. She could almost feel the smoke pouring from her ears as she tried to fully grasp the implications of her being Nerevarine. Then, she turned and ran.

Lyrith landed well outside Vivec’s city limits, breaths coming in jagged, unsteady inhales and the muscles in her legs threatening to give out from underneath her. Noticing that she was resting in the middle of the road, Lyrith wobbled across it and threw herself down into the grass.

_Nerevarine._ The word bounced around inside her head, taunting her. What made it worse that deep down, she could feel an inkling of truth inside the beast’s words. She felt disconnected from her body, like what the ash creature had said had knocked her mind out of her body. The plus side to this being she couldn’t really feel anything which kept her from having a nervous breakdown. _Nerevarine._  

_How could I… I can’t. I can’t be._ She had read the Nerevarine Prophecies but Lyrith didn’t know enough about her past to see how much aligned.

_It lied to put me off,_ she concluded.

_  
_ Another few minutes of intense thought went by. _But how would it know that it would bother me so much?_ She countered seconds later. Not even she had known that simply calling her Nerevarine would’ve had that much of an effect. And she couldn’t deny the truth that felt in her core. Whatever the truth was, she would have to face it eventually. There was no use in running from it, no matter how much she wanted to.

In her mind were scraps of memory from her past, but nothing to tell her who she was, nothing to help her identify with any group or any creed. It was frustrating to begin with, but to now be told that she was a reincarnation just threw a wrench in the fragile sense of identity she’d forged in the past few weeks.

Lyrith sat in silence for a few seconds then pushed herself off the ground by her right hand, forgetting in her daze that she had ravaged her right hand during the battle. Pain seared through her hand. After propping herself up on shaky legs, Lyrith nervously looked at her right hand to see how much damage had been done.

The entirety of her palm was swollen and red due to the black lattice pattern that had been burned in from her sword. It made her right hand completely useless which put her at a terrible disadvantage if she was attacked. If she had any Magicka left over from her fight, she would’ve healed it but for now she let it hang at her side as she began the long walk home.

It would’ve been faster to talk a Silt Strider back, but she felt like the time to think before returning would help her think.At first she had enjoyed the peacefulness of the walk and even felt like it was helping work out some of the pain in her body. Besides, with the thick clouds blocking out the sun and the blustery winds that the storm brought with it, she would be a stupid to miss out on such prime walking weather.

After walking a handful of miles, the weariness in her legs was starting to make her regret walking. And then an arrow knicked her shoulder, and drove her regret home.

It took a moment for what happened to sink in, Lyrith looking at the cut in her jacket with shock before drawing her sword from her waist and turning to face her attacker in one fluid movement. “Please, I’m _really_ not in the mood for thi-” A blurred figure tackled her to the ground before she could fully react. Muscles sore and right hand mostly incapacitated from her fight earlier in the day, Lyrith was at a clear disadvantage when wrestling her attacker in the middle of the road. In the midst of their brawl she noticed something familiar about the black and red clothing the bandit was garbed in but given her situation she couldn’t be bothered to think about it for long. Her assailant positioned itself on top of her and wielded a dagger that was obviously meant to be her end.

But Lyrith wasn’t going to let it be. It was incredible to her how her day could go from bad to worse so quickly, but most of all; it made her angry. That anger gave her the strength to dig out Magicka that dwelled within her. She was ready to blow a hole through her assailant, but before she had the chance an arrow pierced its skull. Lyrith felt sick and satisfied watching the blood drip from the arrowhead that had exited through its chin.

With a grunt, she shoved the limp body off of her before it got any more blood on her. It was obvious that this was no mere bandit since it hadn’t bothered to try and extort her at all first. The clothing was also something that struck her as out of the ordinary. Lyrith _knew_ that she had read about something similar before, but the way she consumed knowledge wasn’t friendly towards retaining details.

“Hail Citizen!” The yell caught her off guard and Lyrith scrambled away from the voice before looking up to see where it came from. A guard in chitinous armor sat atop a horse, the bow in hand telling Lyrith that he was the one who had just saved her.

“These clothes, do they mean anything to you?” Lyrith asked, rudely bypassing her thanks. She could feel the name on the edge of her tongue but for the life of her she couldn’t remember.

The guard leaned down off of his horse and examined the corpse. A muffled _hmm_ came from behind his helmet. “It seems you’ve been targeted by the Dark Brotherhood, friend.” _That was the name!_ Lyrith exclaimed internally. Not remembering was starting to drive her insane.

“Thank you,” Lyrith finally said.

“Anytime. If you fear the Brotherhood, I would seek out a Guild or dwell amongst a city’s guard. If that fails, I wish you luck.” With that, he trotted off, leaving Lyrith to drag the corpse out of the road and search it. Lyrith didn’t find his blasé advice all that useful.

After pulling down its face mask, she learned her attacker had been a Khajiit. Her eyes kept drifting up towards the empty eyes of the dead man whose body she now patted down. Eventually, she found a letter tucked away into a back pocket, the paper worn from being folded and unfolded at least a dozen times. It read as followed;

_The target is named Lyrith who lives in the city of Balmora. She lives alone and travels frequently so you shall have ample opportunity to snuff her out. Be discreet and fast. Our client is of a status with which we have never dealt with before and we must show them our very best. Failure is not an option. Return to the safehouse in Vivec upon completion._

Lyrith’s hands trembled as she folded the letter and stuffed it in her pocket. _They’ve been watching me for...who knows how long. And I didn’t even notice._ She felt sick, angry, and terrified all at once.  
  
**_They are assassins, it is their job not to be seen._ ** Yin said, his voice rising from the depths of her mind.

_But_ **_I_ ** _should’ve known!_ Lyrith snapped back. She had always assumed her small apartment wasn’t as safe, but she had always tried to tell herself that that was just her paranoia speaking. But now who knew how bad her paranoia could get now that it had been right once.

Fear rising, Lyrith stood and looked around in a panic. Desperately looking for any spying eyes, she scanned tree, every rock, every shadow that could house a body. She had had her sense of safety taken from her, which was an offense that she couldn’t forgive.

Once she was mostly sure that she wasn’t being watched, she threw herself down in the grass next to her dead companion who was now buzzing with fleshflies. About an hour or so passed while she sat, viciously planning what she was going to do next.  
  
Truthfully, she didn’t want to return to Caius. In Balmora was her fate and the truth behind the question of whether or not she really was the Nerevarine. Not to mention the attempt on her life that demanded a response and the forces that had ambushed her in Vivec. There was an overbearing amount that demanded her attention but she had no other choice besides face it.

Lyrith stood and walked back to the road. With much anxiety, she began her march back to Balmora.  Her body was on autopilot as she tried to deal with the confusing swirl of emotions consuming her.

**_Why are you upset?_ ** Yin said, interrupting her thinking.

_Why am I-?_ Lyrith mentally fumbled over her words. _Where do I even start?_

**_You should be angry._ **

_I AM angry._

**_Not angry enough. We should’ve hunted down that beast and insured that it met its end. But instead you ran._ **

Lyrith could feel her anger bubbling to the surface. _I didn’t even have to strength to fight back if I wanted to!_

**_So you think. If I must reiterate my earlier point; You underestimate yourself. It wi-_ **

_It will cost me. Yes. I know. If you would be so kind as to explain_ **_how_ ** _I’m underestimating myself maybe I wouldn’t. But you seem to like relying on your ambiguity instead of giving me a straight answer._

**_You are only bound by your limits because you allow yourself to be. Beings such as us? We are not bound by the same rules as others._ **

_“Being’s such as us?” What do you mean?_

Yin scoffed, incredulous. **_You do not see it?_ **

_What is “it?” See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. Can you not just communicate like a normal person?_

**_If you so willingly keep your eyes closed then it is not my duty to open them._ **  Their conversation ended in an instant. She had no idea what had made him so suddenly angry  
  
Lyrith stopped in the middle of the road and ground her teeth. “ _Listen you son of-”_ The loud, violent clinking of chains stopped her incoming rant. On the road ahead, a cart had hit a particularly big hole in the ground which made the slaves it carried get slammed together.  
  
In the barred cage on the back of the cart were people of different races and genders, all scantily clad and dirty. And all of them, Lyrith noticed, carried the same forlorn look in their eyes. She tried to look at them as they passed, but few met her gaze and the ones that did quickly averted their eyes. They had been beaten into submission. She had read before that slaves were used in the southern regions of Morrowind but never before had she seen the victims who were robbed of their humanity. The anger inside Lyrith churned like the bowels of a volcano before an eruption. How could something like that be allowed to stand?

Alongside that however, the sight of slaves had awoken something inside her she had never felt before.

A sudden stream of memories rushed into her mind. She could remember the weight of chains on her battered hands, the crushing unending work thrust upon her, she could feel the hope, despair, and love that she had once held. But like the memory of a dream, the details of it all quickly faded and left only vague impressions.

Lyrith reached out to grab the memories but by the time she tried to hold them in her mental grasp they were already decayed, leaving Lyrith standing in the middle of the road frustrated. For the first time since she had begun her new life, something had triggered part of Lyrith’s memory to cause her to remember who she’d been before. She rubbed her wrist, trying to ease the phantom pain that persisted from the chains that she recalled in her memory.  
  
Had she been a slave? That was the brief impression the memories gave and it would also explain how her body had been marred by scars. It was an answer, but an incomplete one that left her only wanting to know more. _If I was a slave, there’d be records, wouldn’t there? People who know me, who can tell me who I am. Who I was._ It was a longshot, but it was the only lead she had.

**_Or there will be nothing. What is the use in chasing the past,_ ** Yin lectured, **_when you know where your future lies?_ **

_Just because you’re satisfied with knowing nothing about yourself doesn’t me I have to be,_ Lyrith spat back. He responded with a dismissive grunt. Despite fighting him on it, Lyrith knew that he had a point. Much more important things demanded her immediate attention like the fact an assassin had been sent after her or that a benevolent force had seen her as a big enough threat to set up an ambush that almost killed her. But she remained indecisive even while considering those.

She looked north, to her future—then south, to what could possibly her past.  

In the middle of the road stood Lyrith, a cold wind swirling around her as she became increasingly torn on what path to take. A decision was made. It was not one of reason or logic, but of instinct.

Lyrith’s legs carried her south.

 

 

In the shadows Lyrith followed the slave caravan, being careful not to be spotted. Even though they were on a main thoroughfare, she rather not make them aware of her presence. She remained about one hundred feet behind, making sure that the caravan didn’t somehow escape her sight.

**_What are we doing?_ ** Yin asked.

_Following them. They’re slaves, right? So they have to be taking them to a plantation in the south. I can track them there and then see if anything triggers my memory at all._

At first, there was no response but then she heard Yin do something she had never heard before. Nearly hysterical laughter filled her mind that almost instantly drove her to the end of insanity. **_You are aware of how ludicrous that idea is, are you not?_ ** His laughter subsided as he realized she was serious. **_You risk your death for a hunch?_ **

_It’s more than that. I can feel it._

**_Yes of course, when has anyone’s feelings ever lead them astray._ **

_Shut up._ She wasn’t going to allow Yin’s mocking to get to her, this was the right path. It had to be. The sight of the slaves had triggered her memory and she would chase that feeling as far as it carried her.

The sun had fallen now and the caravan was slowing down and pulling off the road and into the wilderness, likely preparing to make camp. Now she dared to move closer. Using the tall grass to hide her, Lyrith crouched and started in the direction of the encampment. There was something comforting to Lyrith about the darkness. A certain warmth and comfort in knowing that she was completely hidden, which allowed her paranoia to relax temporarily.

Her legs were starting to ache by the time she came upon the encampment. _Ugh, how do thieves do this for a living?_ She wondered, rubbing her knees. From her position hidden in the thick foliage, Lyrith had a good sightline on the camp.

The guards had arranged the three wagons in U formation so they could keep an eye on the slaves that were crammed inside. In the middle of the formation they had started a large fire and were cooking something that Lyrith couldn’t quite make out. A few patrolled the perimeter of their small camp while six or so stood around the barred cages on the back of the wagons and cooked.

Even from where she was Lyrith could smell the putrid odor that came from the wagons, the slaves packed so tightly into their cages that they were forced to dwell in their own filth. Lyrith’s head was filled with the harsh sound of her teeth grinding against each other as her anger built up yet again. _No one should be treated like this._

**_If you attack them, you lose your chance to track them. Was that not your plan?_ ** ****__  
**  
** A shaky breath left her lungs, taking some of her anger with it. Yin was right, unfortunately. She couldn’t afford to act on impulse if she really wanted to follow them all the way to their destination. Besides, what would be the use in freeing one group of slaves when there were thousands, if not tens of thousands enslaved in Morrowind? That thought went against her every moral fiber, but it was the only way to stop herself.

_Time to block it out._ Lyrith let her eyes fall to the ground and then crossed her legs as she began waiting for the caravan to start back on its journey. She took this time to use her Magic, which had finally regenerated, to heal the grievous burn on her hand that she had gotten earlier in the day. The rush of warm, healing energy flowing into the wound was a sweet relief. She hadn’t noticed how bad the pain had been until it was gone. It left her palm still bright red, and the lattice pattern from the handle of her blade remained seared into her skin, but her hand was finally usable again.  

Hours passed. Lyrith had gone into a trance that allowed her to rest and stay aware of her surroundings. Every now and then the sound of rattling chains from one of the slaves adjusting their position would stir her from this state but each time Lyrith would force herself back into it. _I can’t do anything._ She repeated it over and over like a mantra, trying to keep her impulses in check.

_I can’t do anything._ Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands were in fists that held handfuls of her pants.

_I can’t do anything. I_ **_won’t_ ** _do anything._

 

Then another part of her spoke up. _Why not?_

_Because...Because I can't afford to waste time. Saving them would be for nothing,_ she reasoned, also lying to herself. 

_Would it be nothing for them?_ Lyrith’s eyes rose to look at the cages that emitted intense misery. She reasoned against herself. _No, but I can’t fight slavery. Even if I do free them, more people will just get enslaved._

**_Here I thought you were a woman of conviction._ **

Lyrith scoffed. _You didn’t even want to come here._

**_I did not. But if you are not willing to stand for your strongest beliefs, can you truly stand for anything?_ **

She curled her lips under her teeth to stop herself from screaming. To be so torn then to have Yin thrown into the mix made her want to tear her hair out. _First you’re against me, now you’re with me. I really_ **_really_ ** _wish you’d make up your mind._

**_Do not try and paint me as the villain, girl. I have only ever wanted to help you. It isn’t my fault you choose to repeatedly make foolhardy decisions that I try to prevent._ **

Lyrith sat in silent thoughts for minutes before finally arriving at a decision. _Are you with me?_ In hindsight she didn’t know why she asked Yin since it was her body and she could do as she pleased.

**_Yes, I am._ **

Today had been the longest day of Lyrith's life in Morrowind so far. When she had woke up this morning, she never would've imagined everything that transpired in such a short time. And she would never would've known it was only the beginning.  


	3. The Shadow of the Isles

 

There was a peace in knowing that death would come for you soon. Of the sixty years Junal-Lee had been alive, he had spent forty five as a slave. He knew there had been a time when had been unbound, but those days seemed little more than a dream to him now.

Torn from his homeland of Blackmarsh as a teen and spent the remainder of his life in chains, being transported from plantation to plantation as frequently as his elven overlords demanded it. There had been a time in the early days of his imprisonment where he had been rebellious, determined to  escape no matter what the cost would have been.

But after a lifetime of failure, of beatings, of having your will broken again and again, he eventually lost his resolve. Junal-Lee had resigned himself to the fate he had been handed and hoped that in his death he could redeem himself to the Hist. Perhaps once his body had been returned to the dirt he would be accepted into the Hist’s roots and born again to live a life free of shackles.

That was what he looked forward to now as he worked up the courage for one last small act of rebellion. His caravan of slaves had been forcibly marched from Northern Vvardenfell to the outskirts of Pelagiad where they now rested before completing their journey to one of the southern plantations the next day. They had not had the luxury of being transported in a cart as some slaves had had, forced instead to traverse the harsh Morrowind landscape barefooted and chained.

Only a few days ago had Junal-Lee decided to forgo his food and let himself slowly starve to death. He had passed it off to a withered Khajiit child who needed it far more than himself. Beatings had already come to him for falling behind due to the lack of strength he had, but he thought them a small price to pay for a final release from a dreadful existence. Weakness consumed him to the extent that he knew death would come to him in a day or two. One last rebellion.  
  
“Have you heard the rumors?” whispered An-Deesei, an Argonian woman that had been forced to join their journey south. She was a fresh face, not one of the tired faces Junal knew from the brutal mining operation he had been assigned to in the north. It was obvious to him that she was new to the chains. A spark of hope remained in her eyes.

“What are you on about?” Responded Galeri, a battered Dunmeri woman who had just barely survived her time at the mines alongside Junal. Her cheeks were sunken due to the near starvation they faced, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones.

No matter how diverse their group may have been, they all shared the same heavy, sleep deprived eyelids.

“The Shadow of the Isles! It-” An-Deesei’s voice had risen with excitement. To talk was to draw the ire of the guards who decided whether you lived or died. Her outburst prompted one of the twenty guards to walk over and deliver a weighty blow to the back of her head that put her face down into the ground.  
  
“Shut up!” The guard commanded, his voice sharp yet muffled behind the chitin helmet he wore.

It took a moment for An to pull herself off the ground and resume her tale, though she spoke in a much more hushed tone this time. “It’s a spirit of justice that strikes at night.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure that the guards were far enough away not to hear her before continuing. “It hunts slavers in the night then breaks the chains of any slaves it finds!”

Junal had heard myths like this before, tales that spread among slaves to keep the spirit of hope alive. “That’s the quite the legend.”

“But that’s the thing!” An said, her voice rising again. “It isn’t a legend.”

Galeri was the one to harshly break the news to her. “I don’t mean to disappoint you my dear girl, but you musn’t let yourself be so gullible. If you go around believing every word the hopeless say, you’re going to get heartbroken many, many times.”

The sound of clinking armor rapidly approaching ended the conversation. The same guard as before had returned with fury in his voice and his knife drawn. “What did I-” A flash of golden light tore his throat from his neck. Junal-Lee looked on in shock as he and the others watched the guard fall forward lifelessly.  Slowly, his eyes shifted to the tree to his left and saw the wobbling shaft of a spear sticking out of its trunk. That had been no magic, but raw strength.

Just minutes before, a dreary and sleepy air hung over the slave camp but now it roared to life. Shouts from confused guards only added to the panicked atmosphere that had quickly began to build through the camp. The raucous noise of rattling chains filled the air as slaves were stirred from their sleep.

The guards lit torches to burn away the shadows and drew their blades to kill whatever had brutalized one of their rank, but the shadows rose up to meet them. It was silent at first– one guard after another disappearing into the darkness and never returning. Junal-Lee and the other slaves could see the mysterious figure that stealthed around the camp but they said nothing to the guards, instead rooting for whoever would give them even the slightest opportunity to escape.

Their rapidly declining numbers sewed fear throughout the remaining guards–of which there were now less than a dozen. Paranoia mixed with fear dulled their reflexes and made them easier to pick off. Once there were only a few left, the figure draped in darkness emerged into the light and disposed of them with a few quick, savage thrusts. Junal-Lee would never forget the way the warrior’s spear of gold caught the light as it murdered those who had stole his life from him.

After the last guard fell, a deafening silence took over the camp. Some of the slaves simply stared at the attacker, mouths aghast from what had just happened, while others weeped heavily. Whether it was out of joy or fear, Junal could not tell.

Stepping into better light revealed the appearance of the person who had laid siege to their camp. They were clothed in all black except for their lightly chiseled bare arms that looked like they had been formed from ash. Their face was hidden beneath a deep cowl and face mask that left only their eyes uncovered. The golden spear that they had used to cut down the guards was clasped in their left hand with blood still dripping off of it.

Junal could feel the slaves collectively hold their breath as the figure held their free hand outwards and produced a startling purple light. That breath was released once the shackles around their wrists and ankles fell off all at once.

“You’re all free now,” Their savior announced, pulling off their cowl and face mask to reveal a Dunmeri woman with short black hair, though she could almost pass for human, were Junal not familiar with people of mixed blood. Her voice rose so that it reached all of the slaves now coping with the new concept of freedom.

The skin where the shackles had been still raw, Junal rubbed his wrists _Freedom..._ he pondered the word whose concewas now so firmly in his grasp. For so many years, freedom had been elusive; it’s concept doing more harm than good to one who repeatedly failed to escape

After so many years spent bound in chains, Junal felt like little more than a shell of who he had once been. But his heart still remained in Blackmarsh.

In truth, Junal did not know where he was, but the Hist still called to him regardless of how far away he was from it. The journey to his home would be arduous and had a strong chance of ending with his death, but he held no fear in his heart. Without any goodbyes Junal-Lee turned south and began making his back home, leaving the dazed former slaves behind.

 

* * *

 

Lyrith waited until the last of the slaves had departed before she started looting the bodies. She had amassed a small fortune just off of what she scavenged from the guards she killed during her missions.  Before she had her way though, she always encouraged the slaves she freed to arm themselves and take any gold they could find to aid them on their journey. What was left was usually armor that she added to her outfit, concealing it underneath tattered clothes she wore on these outings. 

 _More Camonna Tong,_ Lyrith noted while kneeling next to one of the corpses she had left in her wake. She had been running into them more and more lately, seemingly every slave owner in Morrowind employing the crime syndicate to protect their slave deliveries.

Not that it particularly mattered to Lyrith who guarded them. They weren’t any tougher than the other guards she had killed, they just wore different armor.   _Nice armor too._ Underneath her dark clothes, she wore a chestplate she had retrieved from a dead Camonna Tong.

**_How long are you going to keep doing this?_ **

Lyrith had been studying a cuirass crafted from chitin when Yin had spoken. _What do you mean?_

 **_You have been on this crusade for nearly a month. How much longer must you do this?_ ** ****_  
_ **__  
** Had it really been a month? It felt like no more than a week ago that she had attacked that first slave caravan, just barely having the ability in her tired and beaten state to slaughter its guards while staying unseen. Freeing the slaves and seeing the hope in their eyes had ignited a passion within her. One that she couldn’t let herself deny.

So, instead of travelling to the nearest plantation, she went to Vivec and broke into a black smithy. She needed a weapon that couldn’t be traced back to her.  A Dwarven spear had drawn her eye so she left a handful of coins on the counter before stealing it.

The “Shadow of the Isles” was informally created in an alleyway.

She hadn’t returned to Balmora ever since; Lyrith not wanting to risk someone following her and learning her identity. Not that she really had one to begin with but still.

At first it was a bit lonely, having to find a new place to sleep every night, but after awhile she began to prefer this life. After the run in with that assassin, Lyrith felt violated knowing that there was someone who had been stalking her with the intent to kill her. Now she was a shadow, never talking to anyone outside of buying a few supplies and not having to worry about people following her or staking out where she lived. Besides, it wasn’t like she had had any friends that she had left behind.  
  
Lyrith grunted while trying to pull the cuirass off a dead guard. Looting bodies was macabre work, but she had quickly grown numb to it. Her current outfit had all been scavenged from the camps she liberated which helped hide her identity, and she had made a great deal of coin from selling whatever she didn’t use. “I’ll keep going as long as I need to.”

 **_How many slaves have we freed?_ ** ****_  
_ **__  
** Lyrith studied the armor that she had finally freed, only half paying attention to what Yin was saying. “Hundreds by this point I’d guess.”

 **_And how many do you think have been thrown back in chains?_   
**  
“Most,” She answered without hesitation. It was something she thought about often. Hiring slave hunters was a common practice to deal with renegade slaves.   
  
**_Then you realize the futility of this fight in the long run? You may throw yourself at this institution as much as you like but–_ ** ****_  
_ **__  
** “I wasn’t going to listen to you regardless” she started, “but you don’t have to lecture me. I already know what you’re going to say.” For every ten slaves she freed, twenty were either recaptured or freshly dragged from their homes.  

Since assuming her new identity, her life had become repetitive because no matter how many slaves she freed, no matter how much Lyrith terrorized the roads, there were always more.

Giving the people she freed a chance of having a life of their own was important, she knew, but Lyrith wasn’t making the impactful change that she had wanted. _Besides scaring some people into giving me a new name,_ she noted, allowing herself a small but proud smile.

“We have to go for the source.” Lyrith could feel the dread in the pit of her stomach. “We kill the plantation owners and burn their land so that they can never return.” For the last month she had been purposely avoiding going to any of the many plantations in the Isles despite knowing that eventually her path would lead her there. 

But now she had reached the point where she was stuck in a never ending battle that she would almost assuredly lose if she didn’t change her approach.

 **_And when, may I ask, did you plan on consulting me about this?_ ** ****_  
_ **__  
** “Oh, I have to consult you now? I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.” They may be stuck with each other for the time being, but it was still her body.

 **_My mortality is bound to yours. I am owed knowing when my life is going to be put in danger._ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ “I’m telling you now aren’t I?”   
  
There was a pause filled by aggravated silence. **_You cannot keep using this cause as an excuse to run from what truly matters._ ** The words sounded like they came from behind grating teeth. ****_No matter how hard you fight, all this will ever be is an excuse._

Lyrith felt so frustrated she almost burst out laughing. “By the gods this isn't an excuse, these people _need_ me. Don't you get that?”   
  
**_Kill all the people you like but there always be someone else to take their place. You truly believe that killing slave masters will help? This land is filled with those who covet the prestige and power that comes with owning others. One will inevitably step up to fill the mantle regardless of how many you cut down._ ** Lyrith was really starting to wonder how Yin, even as a spirit, didn't become winded from his constant talking. **_You know the pointlessness of your own cause. You just choose to ignore it as you ignore all else._ ** ****_  
_ **_  
_ ** “I just told you what I plan, I'm not running.” Lyrith’s fists clenched. She had devised this plan to make more of an impact, but she dreaded it all the while. _Something_ about her being was intrinsically tied to slavery, and the longer she fought the more likely it would be that she find out what it was. Her desire to learn about her past had been what initially drove her to start this crusade, but at the same time there was a certain comfort in not knowing. Learning who she had been was bound to change her some kind of way, so to avoid that she had remained in a form of stasis; not confronting her future and not learning about her past.

**_So you plan to lay siege to a plantation? One undoubtedly heavily protected by an overwhelming amount of guards that you could never hope to take on your own?_ **

“Exactly right. Dren Plantation is home to the Cammona Tong’s kingpin, wouldn't you feel better knowing that he was dead?”

“Um, excuse me.”  
  
Lyrith spun and tore her spear off her back, beginning to thrust it at the source of the voice. But she stopped as soon as she saw who the speaker was. It was an Argonian girl; one of the people she had just freed from this camp.

Then something else came to mind. “Did you hear all that?” Lyrith had thought herself alone.

“Yes, but... I can pretend I didn’t if that’ll make you feel better.” Lyrith smirked, _I like her already._

She stabbed her spear into the ground to put an end to an idea of hostility, crossed her arms, then tried the kindest tone she could muster though that was hard due to the perpetual raspiness of her voice. “What do you need?”

The girl quickly closed the distance between them, making Lyrith tense up.“My name’s An-Deesei. I heard stories about you but I never thought I’d be lucky enough to be freed by you. I need to join you! If there’s anything I can do to help, I want to do it.” She stared at Lyrith with wide, pleading eyes. “Please.”

Uncomfortable by their proximity to each other, Lyrith took a step back.“I’m really very grateful but I’m better off on my own.” Having another person involved in her mission would only complicate things. She knew that there were people out there hunting for her and she didn't need to worry about someone else not being able to keep up.

It was easy to see the disappointment in the girl’s eyes. “But there has to be something I can do,” her desperateness clung more and more to each word the longer she spoke. “Please, I have nowhere else to go!”

Guilt cut into Lyrith like a knife. This was the reality of what she did. She freed many, but those people had nothing.

She place a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Go to Ebonheart and find the Twin Lamps, if anyone can help you it’s them.” Lyrith had crossed paths with the slave freeing group a few times during her travels, but she hadn’t joined them even though they held the same goal. Recently she had heard mumblings about a major operation ramping up in Ebonheart, but she hadn't investigated.

“That's so far to go!”

Lyrith gently placed both her hands on her shoulders, “The journey will be long but I know you can make it.” An-Deesei hesitated, then nodded.

Lyrith raked over the abandoned camp once more, gathering what little gold she could scavenge from the dead guards and giving it to An-Deesei. By the time the two of them were finished looking through the camp, the Argonian girl actually had a decent chance to make it to her destination, now armed and carrying a decent amount of coin.

“Thank you for this chance,” An said while leaving, bowing deeply to Lyrith before beginning her journey north. Lyrith watched her leave until she faded into the shadows, leaving her alone once again.   
  
**_What are the odds she makes it?_ ** ****_  
_ **__  
** “Shut up.” Not as alone as she’d like.

Now it was time to begin a journey of her own, albeit a shorter one.

She had intentionally waited to until these slaves were closer to the Dren Plantation –what had been their shared destination until Lyrith intervened, to free them. Learning all the routes that slavers took was one of the first things she had done after taking up this cause. Knowing where they were going to be made it easier to set up her plan of attack hours or days before they arrived.

When she was planning her attack on this particular convoy, there was a dot on the map nearby marking Dren Plantation.  Lyrith didn’t know why she had chosen it as her first plantation to attack; it was one of the most heavily guarded plantations in the Isles since its owner was none other than Orvas Dren, the kingpin of the Camonna Tong.

So many of the Camonna Tong had fell to her that they had been the first organization to place a bounty on her head. They had even begun setting up sloppy ambushes, using slaves as bait. It was easy enough to see through their shallow plans and remain out of danger, however.

She was nervous about tangling with the head of Camonna Tong, a legendarily skilled fighter, but if she were to succeed it would send a message to the whole of Morrowind:  No matter who you are, no matter where you live, justice will find you.

The slavelords that built the empire on blood made her skin boil. Who were they to throw away lives like they nothing? She knew they thought themselves untouchable, but if she could strike fear into their hearts, and show the slaves that these masters were just as mortal as they were, maybe that would be the start of something. And maybe the Tong would quit seeking her out.

Besides, there was something about Dren Plantation that called to her. A distant echo in the far corners of her mind whose words she could only barely make out told her to go there. In the past she had done her best to ignore it, but now it was time to answer the call and seek any answers were there any to be found.

Clouds constantly covered Morrowind’s skies as of late, making Lyrith’s trek to the plantation take place in absolute darkness. If it wasn’t for Lyrith’s good sense of direction and her with memorized map in her mind, she would’ve gotten lost a dozen times over. But she had been careful in planning this mission.

Assaulting Dren Plantation was her most ambitious, and probably reckless, plan yet. She had found libraries that held schematics for the plantation and studied them extensively, planning her entry into the area without going near it. Lyrith had enough faith in her stealth skills that she didn’t think she had to familiarize herself with the guard rotation at all; that was something she could deal with as it happened.

Now that she thought about it, how had Yin missed what she was planning? She had spent hours planning for this mission and yet he had somehow missed it. _Did you blow up at me for no reason?_ Silence.

 _Don’t you ignore me._ More silence. Could he just leave? There had been hours before when she had noticed his silence, but she had thought it was just him rudely ignoring her. If he could leave, that begged the question; why did he keep coming back?

Lyrith shook the thoughts from her head as the plantation finally started to come into view, that was something for later. The sight of the light being cast from the lanterns hanging off the massive walls suddenly made Lyrith’s mission a lot more real.

After closing the distance so she only remained a hundred feet or so from the main entrance, Lyrith could see two Camonna Tong milling about. She could dispatch them easily, but her doubt had begun to build about whether or not she should do this at all. _Maybe I should go back and do this another day,_ she started to back away.

 **_We mustn't._ ** Yin said with a sudden appearance, his previous grievances seemingly gone.

She agreed without skipping a beat. _We mustn’t._ If her stealth faltered for even a moment, it would most likely mean her death. Lyrith’s mind was empty, her heart strangely calm; she knew what to do.

The entrance she eyed with the two guards was the one furthest from the villa that served as residence for the owner of the plantation, Orvas Dren. It was a longer path, but it wasn’t as heavily guarded as the entrance near the guard house that was right next to the villa. As long as she had the darkness on her side, she should have no problem sneaking into Dren’s residence and putting an end to him. Stealth was important since Lyrith highly doubted she’d be able to take him on singlehandedly. Rumors of his power in battle was what Lyrith plan the assault for the night to begin with. Had it been any other plantation, she would’ve happily tempted fate and dared an attack during the day.

It was time to move. Lyrith found her feet reluctant to move from underneath her, but she forced herself to move nonetheless. This had to be done. Without drawing attention, Lyrith crept to wall until her back was flat against it. She was only a handful of feet away from the guards now, so close was she that she could see the sweat run down one’s face in the humid night

Where she was the light from the lanterns didn’t reach her, which allowed her to move freely as long as she wasn’t too loud. Past the guards to her right was an empty field with a gentle slope. Focusing on it, Lyrith forced a ball of light into existence, making its brilliance pulse and fluctuate to draw the guards’

“Stay here,” said the one furthest from her, leaving his comrade behind to investigate the light. He stalked the light with his blade drawn, taking an annoying amount of time to get far enough from the other guard. Once he was out of hearing range, Lyrith crept up behind the remaining watchman, stood up, and dragged the dagger she kept up her sleeve across his throat. She carried him backwards into the bushes as he bled out, then left his corpse in the shadows. The way now clear, Lyrith rushed through the

From the entrance ran a stone path that led all the way to the villa. There were three buildings along both sides of the path, each of which had a guard stationed in front of it. That would be the easy route to take, if the plantation wasn’t filled with people who would kill her on.

Instead she would have to hug the wall and hang right, going around the field that the slaves worked, then passing behind the buildings. It was the path of least resistance but it also left her wide out in the open. She took it anyway, staying low to the ground as she rushed through the waist high crops.   
  
The noise of the rustling crops would be loud to anyone nearby, but Lyrith hoped she could reach the other end of the field before anyone had time to investigate.  Luck was on her side tonight: Lyrith made it across the field without drawing any attention to herself. _Either that guard is slacking or they never expected someone to be able to sneak in so easily._

The path from there was easy, she turned right and kept to the wall, following it all the way until it ran into the side of the villa.

Many Camonna Tong still dwelled in the central courtyard outside the villa, so Lyrith was thankful she had been able to cling to the shadows. So far, this had been far easier than Lyrith ever would’ve thought.  She was either more skilled than she thought, or walking directly into a trap.   
_  
_ **_That or these men are not paid enough to care,_ ** noted Yin. Regardless, it wasn’t something she could be bothered to think about now that she was so deep into her mission.

It was easy enough to climb the wall of the villa, Lyrith using window panes and the geometry crafted into the building to scramble up it without breaking a sweat. This made her land on a walkway that wrapped around the sole building on the second floor; a small office– or so she had read.

What better place would there be for the owner of a plantation than an office that overlooked all of his operation? Even if he wasn’t there, the office contained a narrow staircase that would give her access to the rest of the complex. Though the office was smaller than the lower floor, it was still easily three to four times the size of Lyrith’s apartment.   _Someday I’ll have a place like this. Except it won’t be built on blood._   
_  
_ **_If we live that long._ **

_Only positive thoughts now, please._

Since the room’s windows faced outwards towards the field and the rest of the plantation, Lyrith snuck around the back to where the office’s secondary entrance was. Had the guardhouse not been right not next to the villa, she could’ve just walked across the courtyard and took the stairs.

Once at the door, she quickly picked the lock. There was a light click that signalled she had been successful, but she prayed the subtle sound hadn’t given her away.  Heart now pounding, Lyrith gently guided the door open and slipped into the room without making a sound.

In front of the windows was a massive desk with a chair behind it, staring out over the plantation. A figure sat behind the desk with their body mostly hidden despite the lit lamp that sat on the desk. Who else would dare sit there besides the man himself? All she need do is drive her sword through the back of the chair and her job would be done. It was that realization that sent her heartbeat into overdrive, her chest pounding so powerfully that she could feel it ready to burst from her chest. But even that sound, which sounded like thunder in comparison to the silence of the office, couldn't break her hyper focus.

Such focus would've been an incredible asset during some tasks, but in this circumstance it made her lose awareness of her surroundings. Her vision had narrowed to the width of a needle, focused on bringing Dren’s life to an abrupt and violent end. This stopped her from being as careful as she needed to be.

As she drew her her blade, the back of her hand knocked tapped a massive glass vase off a table. _How in the hell did I miss that_? With its size, Lyrith was surprised her gentle touch had been enough to send dethrone it.

Time slowed to a crawl while Lyrith contorted in a painful and unnatural way, throwing herself in an attempt to correct her mistake. It was too late.

The vase erupted into a thousand pieces upon its collision with the ground. Lyrith landed in the glass shards that embedded themselves in her clothes. Luckily, she didn’t cut herself on her sword.

“Watching your approach was entertaining, but I anticipated being more skilled.” Orvas Dren said to Lyrith, rising out of his chair while still having his back turned to her. “I have to say I'm insulted. I've killed three of your people, is that not enough to earn your best?"

She used the precious few seconds before he confronted her directly to scramble to her feet.The rapid waves of adrenaline coursing through her veins numbed the pain of her skinned arms.

Freshly back on her feet, Lyrith used this burst of energy to lurch after her sword and grab it.

Sword in her hands, Lyrith swiftly used her momentum to lunge at Orvas just as he turned to face her. He was a mountain of a man, casually holding a mace in one hand and a single handed crossbow in the other.

They both froze, neither taking the opportunity to kill the other.

Lyrith began to tremble, her arms falling to her sides as she became overcame with powerful tremors.

 _His face… I know him._ Intense nausea came to her in waves, threatening to make her double over

Orvas’ mace loudly clattered to the ground. Lyrith could see the color had drained from his face, leaving him a sickly pale. “You're supposed to be dead.”

“ _W..What_ are you talking about? How do you know me?” Lyrith managed to squeeze out the demand between chattering teeth. Her vision began to flicker as if the light of the world was being shut on and off.

 **_What are you waiting for? End this!_ ** She could hear Yin’s demand faintly, but his shouts fell on deaf ears. Lyrith’s current reality was a chaotic mess that bounced between memories hidden in her mind and the present, where she was very much in danger.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded. He closed the space between them, causing Lyrith to violently flinch and backpedal.

“ **_TELL. ME._ ** ” Lyrith growled, barely able to control of the flurry of emotions clouding her mind.

A look of genuine concern crossed Orvas’ face. His face drew memories from the depths of Lyrith’s mind, causing the two worlds she saw in her eyes and her mind's eye to merge and divert. He reached out slowly, holding out an empty hand to her. “Do you not remember your own father?”

The world gave out beneath Lyrith’s feet. Her vision of the present faded into nothingness, and she was cast back into her own depths.

  



	4. Depths of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyriths relives out the days of her youth, until an accident shifts the world beneath her.

  
  
“I hear your cousin has been filling your head with nonsense yet again.”    
  


Lyrith stood in front of her father’s desk, her hands folded behind her back and wearing a neutral expression that betrayed the fear she felt deep down. “Having sympathy for other people is nonsense?” She retorted, even knowing what could happen if she drew her father’s wrath.    
  
“Yes. Especially slaves.” Lyrith had been caught sneaking food to slaves who had been thrown into a cruel series of prisons that the inhabitants of Dren Plantation called The Wells. They were stone cylinders thrust into the ground, barely big enough to house someone, and were often where slaves were sent to die. Whether your fate came from starvation, dehydration –or in the storm seasons, drowning, The Wells would almost certainly be your end.    
  
Finally fed up with the endless cruelty she witnessed on a daily basis, Lyrith was determined do something about it, even if it was just showing some dying slaves a final act of kindness. “What did you expect me to do? Nothing? Let them lie there and rot?” Her voice rose with each word.    
  
Orvas violently slammed his fist down onto his desk, the wood cracking beneath his power. “I  _ EXPECT  _ you to not to defy me!” Lyrith winced. She had wanted to stop things from escalating but if there was one thing she had gotten from Orvas, it was his temper.   
  
“What you were doing to them was  _ cruel _ !” Lyrith yelled back, earning a terrifying glare from Orvas. “They were  _ dying _ , crying out for help, thinking their Gods had abandoned them. I couldn’t let them die like that. You can't expect me to fake obedience like Tevyn.” The summers in Morrowind always produced an especially sweltering heat that made the land even more inhospitable than it already was. Lyrith thought that after years of hearing the wails of the dying that it wouldn’t bother her anymore, but she was wrong. Even from her room she could hear the slaves wailing with the last of their strength, begging for mercy as they suffocated under in the oppressive heat. She she did as anyone would, or as Lyrith thought, anyone  _ should.  _   
  
Orvas let out a shaky sigh before responding. “Go ahead, waste our food on the worthless, dead, and dying. I do not care. It accomplishes nothing.” _ Hold your tongue hold your tongue hold your tongue,  _ Lyrith told herself, fighting her urge to talk back to him further.   
  
He stood, leaning on his desk with his fists, staring Lyrith down with a furious gaze. “But I have a business to run. If you  _ dare  _ undermine me in front of my men again, I  _ will  _ make you pay for it.” 

Lyrith kept her face calm despite the promise of violence that had just been given to her. “Whatever you say, father.” She forced the words out, trying desperately to keep any heated words from escalating the situation since she was already on thin ice.    
  
“You're too stubborn for your own good.” With two flicks of his wrist, he shoo’d her away. The door was a welcome sight. Once the door clicked shut behind her, Lyrith sighed and leaned against it for a moment. She had somehow survived that confrontation. Those who drew her father’s ire had a way of ending up dead, and that’s if they were lucky. It wasn’t only slaves who could find the Wells being their home. And the heat of summer could make the smell of death especially rank.    
  
Luckily her father had never cared enough about Lyrith to waste too much time on her, even when it came to doling out punishment. When she had been little, she had spent years sad over the fact that her father had wanted so little to do with her. Now that she was grown and able to see what a despicable, disgusting monster he truly was, she was grateful for it.    
  
She quickly bounded down the stairs from her father’s office to the first floor of the villa. Her landing startled the guards at the bottom of the stairs, both of whom quickly avoided her gaze when Lyrith looked at them. Usually, the Cammona Tong guards would make eye contact and bow their heads, a ritual that her father had beat into their head. It was how they were supposed to greet every member of the Dren line, even half bloods like Lyrith, much to her surprise. 

But now they awkwardly did everything they could to avoid making eye contact with her.  _ Oh no,  _ Lyrith cringed,  _ they heard all of that didn’t they?  _ Though Orvas’ criminal earnings were astronomical, the walls were notoriously thin in the Villa. Which meant that most of everyone inside had heard their fight. 

Lyrith stalked off to her room, trying to put it out of her mind. It was times like these that brought to mind something her father had taught her, perhaps the single thing she gleaned from being his child.  _ Why trouble yourself with the opinions of your lessers?  _ Lyrith often bounced back and forth on whether or not it was a good way to think, but sometimes it made her feel better.  

With a quick nod to Khala, the woman who had guarded her room for as long as she could remember, Lyrith walked into her room and kicked the door shut behind her. She sat down behind her desk to see parchment and pen already waiting for her to begin her letter. 

 

_ Dear Cousin Ilmeni, _

 

_ Sometimes I really wish you hadn’t told me about how terrible our family is. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the risk you took with telling me the truth about what my father does and how awful our family is in general but lately………  _

  
Lyrith curled the tip of the y and dragged it out into a straight line until her pen scratched her desk. She took a break and looked out the unbreakable, unopenable window that her desk rested against, thinking. Her cousin had taught her everything she knew. Lyrith doubted that she would care about the plight of the slaves if it wasn’t for the values that Ilmeni had imbued in her in the absence of Lyrith having any parental figure. _And yet…_ She returned to the letter.   
  
_But lately it feels like a curse. I feel powerless to do anything. Every day that I live here comes at the expense of other people suffering. Sometimes I want to take up your offer to live with you in Vivec but._ _  
_ _  
_Minutes passed as Lyrith stared at the full stop, repeatedly tapping her pen on it trying to put into words how she felt. She groaned in frustration before giving up and resuming the letter.  
 _  
_ _I can’t explain. Or can I? There’s nothing I can do. But. I feel responsible for all that my father does. If I run, aren’t I just turning my back on these people? But wouldn’t running be easier? At least I wouldn’t–_ _  
_ __  
Lyrith stopped herself from finishing her last thought and struck out her last sentence. She turned to other letters to fill in the rest of the parchment, but even even as she wrote about unrelated things, Lyrith became angry and confused. Her handwriting deteriorated into some form of script that was messy and unintelligible as her hands shook. Too frustrated to continue, she signed the letter with:  
  


_ Please help before I dash my head against a rock, _ _   
_ _ Lyrith Dren _

 

She stared at the letter as the ink dried, debating whether or not to actually send it. Although Lyrith kept her room meticulously clean, there was a growing pile of crumpled papers on the ground. Over the last few days she had written practically the same letter a dozen times, the details of her frustration perhaps changing wording a few times.    
  
Lyrith wasn’t sure if she wanted her cousin’s help, or if it was just her way of expressing the anger that chipped away at her sanity more and more with each passing day. There was only so much powerlessness she could take.     
  
_ Not today,  _ she finally decided, quickly balling it up and casting it down to the ground to join its brethren. “KHALA,” Lyrith shouted, her deep voice carrying easily through her closed door.   
  
The hinge to her door, ravaged by being slammed shut so often, creaked as her personal guard, Khala, entered her room. “Yes, my lady?” 

Lyrith released a sigh heavy with melancholy. “Walk with me.”  _ Maybe some fresh air will do me some good,  _ she hoped.

Not having a weapon of her own and not being Magically gifted, Lyrith didn’t like walking outside of the walls of the plantation on her own. It was impossible to walk through the plantation without the constant reminder of her family’s evil being thrust into her sight. But the landscape of Vvardenfell looked so alien compared to that of the plantation, it made it easy for Lyrith to forget. Even if it was just for a handful of minutes. They resumed the path they usually walked, a paved walkway shrouded in shade from the towering fungi overhead.

After a few minutes of walking, Lyrith and Khala were far enough away from the plantation that Lyrith could think clearly. Gathering a deep breath, Lyrith dived into thought.

_ What can I do? _ Was the question at the center of her inquiry. There had to be  _ something  _ besides her stubbornness keeping her bound to the plantation, which meant that the answer to her problem existed out there somewhere. She had to feel obligated to stay for a reason, didn’t she?   
  


_ Or maybe you’re just too stupid to know when to give up.  _ She ignored these intrusive thoughts and continued to play with whatever ideas came to her. A bastard though she may be, she was still born into a position of power. Her cousin had taught her that she had to use that to help others, but Lyrith wasn’t quite sure how to.    
  
_ Kill your way through?  _ The idea was entertained for a moment, but since Lyrith wasn’t gifted with magic or combat training of any kind, that was more of an anger driven fantasy. That would be a dark and bloody path that would probably end in her death in the unlikely event she actually acted on those feelings.    
  
Besides that the mere thought of taking a life made her nauseous. Everyone around her treated the taking of life with such casualness but Lyrith had yet to become desensitized to death. She turned from the thought. __   
  


Over and over again Lyrith ran scenarios through her head, trying to find one that clicked with her in a way that sounded right. None of them granted her the certainty that she wanted. She had always read about the great figures of history, like Almalexia or Talos, who found their path through life so easily. It was if they had stood at great heights their whole life, able to see to the horizon of their destiny. Lyrith had hoped that maybe something similar would happen to her.    
  
_ Stupid,  _ Lyrith concluded. It was foolish to think that such a thing would occur. As if the gods would put forth some idea to deal with the problems that lie before her. 

Lyrith stopped walking, her feet beginning to ache. She and Khala had been on their walk for some time now. They were on a small hill that was shrouded in the shadow of a giant mushroom. Whenever they walked, Lyrith often stopped here before returning home. Facing northward, Lyrith could see the Ministry of Truth, the meteor the Living God Vivec had frozen shortly before its catastrophic collision. It remained suspended in the air, almost always viewable from where ever you stood in Vvardenfell. Behind it, dominating the sky, was Red Mountain. They reminded Lyrith that there was a world outside of what she lived, a world that she hoped to someday know. But until she could find a solution, the plantation remained her world.    
  
She looked to the plantation. Even from her distance she could see the Wells jutting out of the ground.  _ This has to be stopped. Somehow.  _ She looked to her companion,  Khala. She was Dunmer, like most of the Camonna Tong. Behind the sharp angles of her face, the lines that had been worn into her skin, was a kindness that was rare in Lyrith’s life. There were only a few people on Dren Plantation that she could say were kind, and cared about her and Khala was one of them.    
  
“What would you do if you were me, Khala?”    
  
Khala looked shocked that she had been asked for her input. When she finally spoke, the words came stuttered. “I...It’s not for me to say, My Lady.”   
  
“Oh please we’ve known each other for years at this point, speak your mind.” Lyrith despised all of those that worked for her father, but Khala was a special exception. She was Nordic woman a great deal older than Lyrith, but she still had a build that gave her a towering, formidable look.  There were so very few people Lyrith could trust at Dren Plantation, but she counted Khala among them. Khala had never been a conversationalist but what little she had said to Lyrith had given the impression that they saw the world in the same way. Which struck Lyrith as odd, considering who Khala had chosen to work for. 

Khala’s eyes shot around as she tried to come up with an answer. “You’re eighteen summers old, the same age as my daughter’s, my lady.”   
  
“I didn’t know you had kids,” Lyrith responded with a tilt of her head. She had known Khala all her life, but it turned out she she knew very little about the woman who had watched over her for so many years.    
  
Khala continued without a beat. “If I’m being honest, my lady… I think you’re too young to be concerning yourself with such things.”    
  
Part of her agreed; Lyrith had spent years of her youth consumed by the fact that she was complicit with evil. “But it’s too late for me  _ not  _ to be concerned about it,” Lyrith rebutted.   
  
It had robbed of a chance to grow up, instead maturing her at an accelerated rate. A tiny, insignificant price to pay in Lyrith’s eyes. Yet again, Lyrith had never really had a normal, easy childhood anyway. Most of it was spent alone, or being punished by her father for things that her brother had done. She tried not to remember most of it, and what she could remember wasn’t remembered fondly.   
  


“I know, my lady, but in an ideal world children shouldn’t have to worry things like slavery.”   
  
“But we don’t live in an ideal world,” Lyrith scoffed, turning to face Khala. “In an ideal world I wouldn’t hate my family. In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to spend so much time tearing my hair out over this! Do you think I want this? I would  _ kill  _ for my life to be that simple!” Lyrith demanded, reason abandoning her while the words flew from her mouth. Instant regret came soon after. 

Khala recoiled from her voice, a sight that distressed Lyrith; she sounded like her father when she yelled. Bile flooded to the back of her throat, accompanying the nausea she felt when she realized how she had just blown up on someone who hadn’t deserved it. It wasn’t like her to be so prone to anger or let it get the best of her. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell I just… I just–”   
  
“Yelling at the help now, baby sister?” Called her brother, striding up from behind them. Unlike her and her father, Lyrith’s brother, Tevyn had a voice whose pitch pierced the heavens and oozed condescension with every word. Slowly, Lyrith spun around, already annoyed at his mere presence. “Maybe we have more in common than you think.”   
  
Lyrith tried to conjure up a scathing response but all she could muster was a disgusted “Ugh. Don’t insult me by insinuating I’m like you and don’t compliment yourself by thinking you’re anything like me.”   
  
A thin lipped smile cracked across Tevyn’s face. It was almost disturbing how much he looked like their father, as if Orvas had simply split himself in two to create his first child. “I just  _ had  _ to check on you, dearest sister,” he continued while ignoring her words. “I heard you and father got in quite a row earlier. Literally heard. In fact you’d have to have been deaf not to hear all that.” He stopped to laugh for a moment, reveling in his own joke, though Lyrith severely doubted that it could be called a joke.

Lyrith could feel her face begin to twitch.

 

“Honestly I’m disappointed you got away without any punishment." Tevyn continued while Lyrith quietly fumed and tried not to let her rage boil over.    
  
“Father lets you get away with everything, why wouldn’t he let me?”Lyrith replied nonchalantly, her eyes flicking towards the horizon to try and make it seem like she wasn’t bothered.   
  
“Because I’m not a bastard,” Tevyn spat. “My mother wasn’t some human whore that was traded like cattle.”   
  
She had tried to stay civil, but his escalation had quickly put an end to any attempt to stay calm. Lyrith’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore.”  For as long as she could remember, Tevyn had taunted Lyrith about her lineage. Over the years she had grown numb to the fact that she was an accident, the product of something that had been forced upon her mother which she had never known. As a little girl, it had been an easy way to make her cry, then it had meant nothing to her. But for some reason, today was the day she had had enough. “I’ll warn you once, and only once; shut your mouth.”    
  
Tevyn responded with a curt smile, but Lyrith could feel his anger. “I get to talk to you however the hell I wan-”   
  
“You really don’t.” Lyrith interrupted.   
  
He fumbled over his words for several seconds before finally getting the words out. “You think I’m going to play nice with some half blood bitch who–”   
  
Lyrith’s fist flew into his face. With her full power behind it, her punch easily broke his nose. Blood erupted out of his nose as Tevyn was thrown to the ground. Lyrith, not satisfied with the damage she’d already done, followed him to the ground. Her knees landed on his chest, and without hesitation Lyrith wailed on him with her right hand. “ _ SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH.”  _ Lyrith screamed, her punches punctuating each word. Bones crunched under her strength, reducing Tevyn’s face to ruins. Lyrith didn’t know she was capable of such damage or such rage. 

It made her feel _ powerful.  _ A lust for it now in her veins, Lyrith snarled and reeled back her arm for another strike.    
  
Khala’s arms wrapped around her and tore her away from her brother whose face was a bloody mess. “You musn’t get into more trouble, my lady!” Lyrith laid on the ground, hands shaking and aching, the skin on her knuckles split open from when her fists met her brothers skull.  _ I’ve gone mad,  _ she realized, looking at blood coating her hands.    
  
Lyrith pulled herself off the ground and looked towards her brother whose sobs she had subconsciously blocked out. He cradled his face but she could still see the blood that seeped from the wounds she had inflicted. She knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop her from being horrified by what she had done.    
  
Lyrith ran to her room, leaving Khala and Tevyn behind. After she had slammed her door shut, she felt guilty for leaving Khala to clean up her mess and explain what had happened, but instinct had guided her away.  _ That’s what the help is for,  _ said the part of her brain that held some residue of her father’s essence.    
  
_ It’s already done, there’s nothing I can do but apologize to her,  _ Lyrith told herself, taking a seat on the edge on her bed. Excruciating pain radiated from the fractured bones in her hands. She never would have guessed that fighting would’ve hurt so much.   
  
The blood on her hands was dried now; the wind that rushed passed her on her mad dash home had dried them. It had all happened so fast.   
  
When she closed her eyes, she could hear the sound of the bones in his face breaking. Her and her brother had gotten into fights before, as all siblings did, but never had she blown up at someone so violently before.  Feral and animalistic, it was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. It was as if something had possessed her.   
  
The worst part was that it felt  _ good.  _ The power that imbued her, the ability to release her anger was empowering. But on the other side of that coin was the disgust she felt towards herself. Violence, she felt, had always been in her blood. Throughout her life she had seen Orvas perform impulsive acts ultra violence that often resulted in peoples death. Lyrith had never thought herself capable of such viciousness.  _ But he deserved,  _ part of her argued.    
  
_ You would’ve killed him,  _ argued another.   
  
Confusingly, her bottom lip began to quiver and tears filled her eyes. She thought she was too emotionally numb from the rush of adrenaline to feel much of anything. It took her a moment to realize that she was truly upset because of what she had done to her brother. Because of the shouting match she had gotten into with her father.    


Lyrith realized that hating her family, and being hated in return, was crushingly lonely.    
  
Alone, she sat in her room and waited for the consequences of her actions to come knocking.    
  


  
A handful of unremarkable days had passed. No punishment had come for what she had done to Tevyn and no ideas for how to help the slaves had come to Lyrith. It was more of the same; days that blended into days without anything to differentiate them from one another besides the setting and the rising of the sun.    
  
The only thing that showed Lyrith that time had passed was that the cuts on her knuckles had healed, a process that had been partially helped along by one of the mages that worked for her father. Now they were faint grey reminders of her outburst.   
  
The plus side to all of that business being that her brother gave her a wide berth. Well, a wider berth than he had before. Much like Lyrith he had received healing which repaired most of the severe damage she had done. He had spent hours having Magicka poured into his broken face, but even with all their effort the healers couldn’t return his face to how it had been.    
  
To Lyrith, the permanent marring that he wore did him more favors than anything. At least, that was the joke she told herself to make herself feel slightly less guilty for making him wear the marks of her anger.    
  
This had caused the disdain he had once held for Lyrith transform into a palpable hatred, something that radiated off of him in intense, uncomfortable waves everytime Lyrith had the misfortune of making eye contact with him.    
  
Their relationship had never been  remotely friendly before but now, Lyrith waited for the night where she woke up to her brother standing over her bed with a knife. Not that she had to worry too much about that; she didn’t sleep much anymore.    
  
Now that they were in the midst of summer, Lyrith spent most of her time in her room since the heat made the outdoors impossible to bear. The heat coupled with the chronic despair that had been plaguing her ever since her outburst kept in her in bed most of the day. Whenever night finally came, she found herself wide awake.    
  
The time’s where she wasn’t asleep, she spent thinking about what she could do to help the slaves. Nothing had come to her, which only made her despair greater. With each passing day the idea of simply leaving and moving to Vivec sounded more and more appealing.  _ Would giving up really be so bad?  _ The thought bubbled up from the recesses of her mind.  _ It’s not as I were accomplishing anything anyway.  _ __   
__   
Were she still carrying the flame of anger, which had sadly disappeared, she wouldn’t even entertain such thoughts. But now that she was trapped in the mire of despair, she couldn’t say that it was a wrong thing to think. The debt of blood that her and her entire family carried may have been too much to make up for.    
  
“Ugh, stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Lyrith threw herself out of bed, determined not to sit there and wallow in self pity. Barely clothed due to the heat, she quickly threw on whatever clothes caught her eye, not particularly caring about her appearance. Her hair was a mess, but she knew that it was filled with so many knots that she’d be better off shaving her head than trying to comb it out.    
  


She walked out into the hallway, finally leaving her room for the first time in days. In the hallway Khala stood guard as she always had. They hadn’t spoken since Lyrith had left her holding the bag. The bag being her horribly bleeding and near death brother.   
  
“Do you wish for me to accompany you, my lady?” Khala asked. Her demeanor towards Lyrith was seemingly unaffected by what had happened, but Lyrith couldn’t bring herself to look at her. Guilt kept her eyes to the ground.    
  
“I’ll be fine on my own, I don’t plan to go that far.” She walked away before Khala could respond. 

One thing Lyrith enjoyed about living on the plantation was its size. Sitting on hundreds of acres of land, the plantation could be a town in its own right. It could take one hours to walk from one end to the other. Lyrith had lived there her whole life, and she still hadn't seen all of it. Truth be told, she was scared of getting lost.    
  
The sun was lower in the sky now, the height of the walls surrounding the plantation cutting its disk in half, something Lyrith was grateful for as she started her venture. She walked along the inside of the walls, standing in the shade of their shadow. 

She absorbed every detail, wondering if this would be the last time she would ever walk through this place. Lyrith already had one foot out the door, it wouldn't take much to leave altogether.

There were dozens of slaves laboring in the field in full view of the sunlight, dripping in sweat and wearing grimaces while they attended to their work. Guards sat in the shadows and on the decks of the auxiliary buildings of the plantation keeping an eye on the slaves since they were more prone to keel over in this weather.    
  
A few guar roamed the walkways, tongues out and panting. Days like this, the heat scared most people inside who could get away with it. No one would willingly subject themself to such suffering. 

  
She returned to the decision she faced.    
  
It’d be simple enough to write to her cousin and ask to stay with her in Vivec. Leave it all behind, leave her behind, and try and find a new way to fight for the slaves. But watching the slaves sweat and struggle in the unbearable heat made her hesitant. How could she abandon them? What could she tell herself to justify leaving while they were chained and bound?    
  
_ There has to be something I can do.  _ She came up with empty with ideas.    
_ Anything?  _ __   
__   
Nothing.  _ I’m meant for more than this. I’m meant to make a difference. I… I know I am. That’s why this is happening to me.  _ She looked upward, turning her thoughts towards the Gods, both Aedra and Daedra. Anyone that would listen, really.  __ Why would you birth me into this family, then curse to be the only one with a conscience if I wasn’t supposed to do something to change it?   
  
What was about to be a unraveling of her already fragile mental state was interrupted by a cry. Muffled and weak, but undoubtedly the cry of someone in pain.

The cry pulled her out of her headspace  and back into reality where she realized she had walked all the way to the plantation’s southern entrance.  _ How did I get so far without noticing?  _ She must've been walking for hours on autopilot.

The noise carried her to the barracks nearby. It was a ramshackle building that only stood a few feet in front of the wall that encapsulated the entire plantation. Even though it served as a slave pen, it was barely fit to house animals. Now deserted, the eerie silence made the sound easy to follow.

She rounded the back of the building and saw three guards standing over a slave, kicking the bloodied Argonian man repeatedly. The slave had his arms wrapped around his head in an attempt to shield himself from their vicious kicks, but each new kick brought a cry of pain from the man, who hacked up blood between blows.    
  
Rage breathed acid into Lyrith’s veins, reviving her from the state she had been in. She demanded, marching up them. She moved with all the fury of a storm, shoulders squared and hands balled into fists as if the guards couldn’t easily knock her down. “That’s  _ enough!”  _ she shouted, while tearing one of the guards away from the guards. The man seemed more annoyed than anything that his boss’ daughter had caught him. The other two turned to look at the altercation,looking over the shoulders of their friend who stood face to face with Lyrith. It gave the slave a moment of peace. 

“What the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re doing?” Lyrith demanded.   
  
“Teaching this bastard a lesson,” the guard Lyrith had pulled away responded, hostile. “Caught him stealing.”   
  
“And you thought it’d be alright to beat him to death?” Lyrith made no attempt the outrage and contempt she carried for them. She saw them crack small smiles, like her anger was nothing more than a joke. This only served to further her fury.    
  
“Just doing our job, miss.” The man turned and spit on the slave. “Someone has to put these bastards back in place when they step out of line.”    
  
_ No,  _ Lyrith decided.  _ This has to be stopped.  _ “Let him go.”

The guard closed the distance between them, then spat on the ground between her feet. “Like I’m going to let some halfbreed  _ nothing  _ tell me what to do.” He turned his back to Lyrith before she had the chance to respond, then ran up to the slave and kicked him powerfully in the ribs. Even from where Lyrith was standing she could hear the crunch of broken bones. This beckoned the other guards to rejoin their beating, more savagely this time.    
  
“Stop it!” Lyrith yelled, the hoarseness that anger brought to her voice straining her throat. The guards ignored her.   
  
“I command you to stop!” They ignored her still. Teeth scattered across the ground as one of the guard’s armored boots collided with the slave’s mouth. 

Lyrith finally decided.  _ No more. _ It was in that moment the world trembled. Something ancient that long lay slumbering had been called upon to awaken. 

 

Lyrith threw out her right hand, reaching for the guard who seemed to lead the pack of mongrels in front of her.

 

Before her hand could reach him, a spear woven of golden light flew out of her palm and pierced the guard with so much force it carried him through the building he stood next to. He flew with such explosive power that the hole he left in his wake caused the building to collapse, undoubtedly drawing attention to their location. 

Lyrith looked at the result of her power in shock, then turned to look at her hand. Never before had the gift of Magicka manifested itself within her. She had spent her whole life thinking herself incapable of using the power the rest of her family wielded.    
  
She, along with the remaining guards, stared at the destruction in awe. It was coughing that finally tore her attention away from it. “R...run,” the horribly beaten slave managed to rasp out, blooding still spilling from his mouth. Since she was still in shock her first instinct wasn't to run, it was to wonder:  _ why waste your words on me? _   
  
His warning came too late. By the time Lyrith was able to finally shake off the shock, one of the guards fist slammed into her temple, shutting off the light of the world.   
  
Darkness enveloped her, casting her into a state of nothingness. Here she existed without any real thought or sense of being. Perhaps it was a pocket dimension within her soul that she had receded into in the face of danger.

Out of the darkness came a gold light, radiating warmth. It was like the first rays of sunlight of a new day; burning away the darkness and bringing warmth. This light drew back some of Lyrith, wresting her from the sense of unbeing.

The light solidified into a face, one had a distant familiarity, like someone Lyrith had only glimpsed in a dream. 

_ Ayem?  _

 

A torrent of icy water tore Lyrith from her stasis, tearing her back into the real world where she immediately greeted with pain radiating from a nearly broken bone surrounding her eye. She tried to raise her hand and inspect the damage but found that her arms had been bound to a solid wooden table. She was fastened to it so tightly that her palms were forced flat against the smooth wood. 

“Thank you, Khala.” Her father’s voice boomed from in front of her. 

Lyrith slowly raised her head to look at him, still in a daze from the blow she had taken and her vision obscured from the blood that had dried over one of her eyelids. Orvas stood before the table, leaning on his mace with a cadre of six people standing a few feet behind him. Lyrith recognized Khala and Tevyn among the group. 

His mace was a wicked looking weapon that looked more like a chunk of raw metal that had been melded onto a pole than a refined weapon. 

The darkness in which he stood cast shadows on his face, accentuating his sharp features and made him look more terrifying than usual. “Time and time again I have given you more second chances than any one person deserves. And you are still bent on disappointing me.” The seething anger he felt dropped from each word. He gripped the pommel of his mace so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

They were in the cells, Lyrith realized. The smell of death and rot coupled with the dampness gave it away.  _ Is he going to leave me down here?  _ She wondered,  _ or is he going to have me tortured first? _ Lyrith was hollow and almost completely disconnected from her body. It was a last ditch effort of trying to not grant the fear of her imminent death seize her completely.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“What is it that you want me to say, father?” The words sprang from her lips without thought. “Do you want me to beg for my life as if you haven't already made up your mind?” She said it with her chest, “Do you expect me to cry and say that I regret it?” She let the words linger in the air for a moment before continuing. “The only thing I regret is that I didn't do it  _ sooner. _ ” If she were to die here, then she would at least have her last words be those of defiance. “Go ahead and kill me. You'll never-"

“Kill you?” Orvas interrupted, sounding genuinely hurt or at least trying to. He leaned down so that he and Lyrith were face to face. “Death would be too good for you,” he whispered.

In the blink of an eye he wrapped both of his hands around the handle of his mace, reared it over his head, and brought it violently crashing down onto Lyrith’s hand. Not even the stone walls could contain her blood curdling scream. 

Orvas produced a knife and cut her free of the restraints, allowing Lyrith to clutch at her bloodied, mangled hand. Her fingers all pointed in different directions, and the force from his swing had torn her wrist halfway off. Blood poured from the destroyed veins of her wrist, and shattered bones protruded from her palm. Parts of her hand were simply flattened, the flesh crushed into a paste. The excruciating pain left her incapable of producing any thought as she screamed in agony.

Orvas gestured to two of the Camonna Tong behind him to pick her up. “Throw her in the pen with the rest of the slaves. If she cares so deeply them, she can join them.”   
  
In the distance through the fog of pain, Lyrith could hear a voice call out. “If you don’t let me heal her she’ll die, my lord.” Ariel, one of the plantation’s few resident magi and the chief healer, had always had a soft spot for Lyrith when few else had. Her short stature had hidden her from Lyrith’s sight.

  
“If she dies, she dies; slaves are expendable. Perhaps her corpse will be a good reminder of what happens to those who defy me.” Ariel’s fight ended there. 

Pain distorted reality so intensely that Lyrith’s journey to the slave pens barely registered at all. The constant stream pouring from her sundered wrist drained Lyrith of most her blood, and with it, her strength.  _ I need...to fight…  _ She mustered all her remaining strength but barely managed to make her bicep twitch.

By the time they had reached the slave quarters she was dead weight, barely clinging onto her last thread of consciousness. 

The guards that had carried her across the plantation opened the doors to the slave pen and tossed her like a sack of potatoes. Her collision with the ground exacerbated the pain she already felt, but Lyrith’s body didn't have the strength for a response. Not even having the strength to open her eyes, she was left at the complete mercy of her surroundings. Not that it mattered at this point.

Lyrith could feel her brain slowly grinding to a halt, the last bits of life slipping from her grasp.  _ I...don't...die...like...this…  _ She refused.  _ I won't...let...him...win. I can't.  _ She fought for each defiant thought, thinking that death could be could be abstained from through sheer force of will.    


But it wasn't enough. Lyrith fell unconscious from the severe blood loss, knowing that she would never wake again. 

The certainty with which Lyrith had faced her death made it all the more confusing when she woke the next morning. For a moment, the feeling of a bed underneath her deceived and  she thought that everything that had happened had been a terrible nightmare. Once her senses fought through the morning haze, however, this delusion faded. 

The first thing she did was look at her wrist. The pain before had been so intense it nearly stole consciousness from her, but now it had been reduced to an ache. Lyrith looked to her hand to find it in perfect condition, as if the events of the day, or days before, had never happened. No scars, no blood, no protruding bones, just a constant pain that radiated from her hand. It was searing, but dull compared to what it had been before. 

Lyrith touched the part of her face that had been punched and found no damage there either.  _ I… was healed?  _ She remembered the feeling of the blood pouring from her body, draining the life from her as it did. There was no amount of healing that could’ve saved her at that point.    
  
She put that mystery aside and decided to try and find out where she was. Straw poked through the shoddily made mattress, and beams of sunlight broke through the cracks between the worn, wooden boards of the hut she was in. Lyrith got up slowly, trying to make as little noise as she could. Who knew whose residence she could be in? From the condition of the hut, no one wealthy. 

  
Lyrith soon realized that her attempt to be stealthy was in vain, Lyrith somehow failing to notice that the sound of a blacksmithy filled the air. It was a chaotic amalgam of sound that drowned out all else.    
  
There was only a single, narrow exit out of the hut that led directly into the smithy itself. Lyrith proceeded cautiously, her left hand balled up in a fist and her right hand loose; trying to flex it at all made the pain flare. She had to bend her knees upon entering the hall that led to the smithing workshop. Whoever had built it was tragically short.    
  
Once Lyrith finally broke through the end of the hallway, the sound of the blacksmithy ground to a halt. “Good to see you back in the land of the living,” greeted the blacksmith. She was a stout, Imperial woman–if Lyrith had to guess, based on her tanned skin. Her most striking and immediately attention grabbing feature, however, were her arms. They were so massive that Lyrith was momentarily at a loss for words.

  
“Are the one who healed me?”   
  
“I don’t know healing. Or any magic. Just metal.” The smith said in an extremely dry tone. “I carried you here. That’s where my help ends.”    
  
Lyrith shook her head, confused. “Then who healed my hand? And my head,” she asked, rubbing the spot on her head where the injury had been.    
  
“No one.”   
  
Lyrith recoiled. “No one? What do you mean no one?”    
  
“No one’s laid a finger on you since I brought you here. Magically or otherwise.” Lyrith broke eye contact, baffled.  _ My body couldn’t have just done that on it’s own! Could it?  _ Maybe it was her magic, Lyrith pondered, the same that had manifested itself and caused her to kill that guard. Had she called upon it subconsciously?    
  
_ Even then, it would take an ungodly amount of energy to heal  _ **_that_ ** _ much. And I only do magic accidentally, apparently.  _ Considering how she had been at death’s door, Lyrith found it unlikely that she had done it herself. But it left her with an unsolvable question; who had done it?    
  
Lyrith shook her head. That didn’t matter now. Fighting her way back to freedom was all that mattered now. She bore no chains but still felt the violation that came with being stripped of her agency. She was a cog in a machine of death and servitude now, just like the people she had always pitied. The feeling made her want to vomit, which didn’t help with all the other issues she was facing both physically and mentally. 

Lyrith stumbled towards the exit, determined to make a break for her freedom as soon as she could. “I can’t. I can’t live like this.” She nearly fell over after three steps, only for the blacksmith to leap forward with surprising speed and support her.    
  
“You’re not in the shape to being taking on anyone right now.”   
  
Lyrith gritted her teeth, humiliated and frustrated by her powerlessness. “Then what am I supposed to do?”   
  
“What we all do, girl. Take it one day at a time. Let yourself recover, and if that fire still burns in you by then,  _ then  _ you act.”    
  
As much as it pained Lyrith to entertain the idea of being a slave, she had little choice now. This was her reality now, and as much as she might hate it with every fibre of her being, she had no other choice but to bide her time. The longest days of her life were about to begin. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
